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This Week In Weird Twitter, Volume 105

In the words David Lee Roth, ‘I cannot get there from here, baby.’ Sometimes Dave got things wrong.


On his motorcycle, Wade sped past a car loaded with Lularoe leggings. While intrigued at the money-making opportunity, he pushed on. Brad, the driver of the car and chief procurement officer of the leggings, looked out the window and gave a slight nod as he passed. He didn’t know the details of Wade’s mission, but he could sense purpose. Wade pressed the gas down and rushed down the road.

He had an objective. He was on a quest. Sure, Halloween had come and gone, but there was still candy out there. Specifically, there were Reese’s peanut butter cups. He was an underdog, but kismet was on his side, even if there was a light rain falling. It was preferable to a hard rain, the Dude’s missing CCR tape notwithstanding.

Nevertheless, Wade kept at it, tightening his rain jacket around his chest. He moved through a forest, the smell of pine cones filling his nostrils. He passed a swamp, the frogs croaking out Bud-Weis-Er.

A cold one did sound nice. Wade stopped to reflect, drink cheap beer, and reflect. That’s when the bots took control.

It was then that he made a decision.

He noticed a St. Bernard jogging down the sidewalk. The dog shouted, “You can call me Alan.” Then he offered Wade a suggestion.

Then a driver in a PT Cruiser almost ran him over, which really set his road-rage aflame.

Wade reached into his back pocket and delivered a blast to the driver of the PT Cruiser.

He noticed another dog yelling from the sidewalk, only this was no dog.

He realized that as a witness, he might have to offer testimony. He realized he needed to prepare.

As he did so, he noticed a woman going to extremes to avoid making plans. But it worked, so he made a mental note to try it himself.

He was able to proceed without answering any questions, but then he encountered a fellow who caused him to ask some existential ones.

But he didn’t have time to get bogged down in the philosophy of pulling the moon into a spiraling wave, so he wrote down what Larry said and moved on.

The cops tried to stop him for questioning again, but then they saw how poorly constructed his scarf was.

Fortunately, a woman running down the street with a medieval weapon distracted them. He hopped back on his motorcycle and took off before he got caught in any more shenanigans. Alan waved goodbye.

Then Alan took off. He’d seen “The Lion King” in the theater. He didn’t need a live-action version.

When you’re talking a bunch of hyenas loosed in a metro area, nope. At least not at first. They’d move on eventually.

That’s when Wade rolled past me.

And I was telling a beautiful love story.

It involved another underdog.

A plucky fitness coach.

Alternative medicine.

With as many kids as there were tentacles.

It started with a ghost story.

Plus, the Illuminati and Rand Corp.

And, lastly, a home.

With only a little bit of a creep factor.

Maybe I should rest before I continue. This is getting out of hand.

And not much is being subtly slipped into my hand.

Despite living large and occupying multitudes.

Wade, meanwhile, had stopped to get his device upgraded.

That’s when it hit him.

It also hit him that he was supposed to be on a mission to find Reese’s Cups. He decided to regroup and re-focus, but he wasn’t going to explain anything.

He also wasn’t going to listen to me, who had wandered up and begun doing my best impression of Homer.

Not that his disinterest really bothered me.

Plus, once he wandered off, this happened.

Wade happened upon the edge of an undulating mass. He found himself next to a woman who was having a revelation.

No, it wasn’t that Jack is right.

It was this.

Wade wasn’t interested, but he did notice a ribbon dangling from Tina’s desk drawer. He tugged it. What he discovered filled him with feelings.

For Wade had discovered that which he sought. In Tina’s desk drawer, there was a large stockpile of Reese’s Cups. One might even say there was a plethora of cups. He filled his pockets and jumped back on his motorcycle. Tina had returned and was brandishing things.

Fortunately, a woman flailing down the sidewalk knocked Tina out of the way and Wade escaped.

Before slowing to berate an overly enthusiastic person sitting in a parked car.

Then whipping through an intersection.

Why do I always have people out roaming the streets for these? Note to self: Involve a giant house or a resort or something for volume 106. Make people stay inside the whole time if possible.

Include some hidden passages in said house or resort.

And make sure there are some tense interactions with the people inside. I have such a gift for drama, I can’t help but be impressed with myself.

Note to self, two: Don’t listen to myself.

Wade found himself in front of a sprawling resort. Possibly it was just a really big house. Or maybe it was a hotel. He kicked in the door and strode into the kitchen.

One of the other residents wanted to know why he’d kicked in the door. Partly it was to make a dramatic entry, but only partly.

Wade emptied his pockets, sharing the bounty of peanut butter cups with all around him. They didn’t realize his feelings on adding love to his recipes, just as they didn’t realize he responded to sneezes with curses rather than blessings.

Soon, things would be afoot in this large building of a yet-to-be-determined nature with a cadre of yet-to-be-determined characters. One thing was certain, it is not to be lighthearted. No, Wade was focused on making sure that whatever happened in this bed and breakfast—maybe that’s it—rivaled the horror Phil Connors experienced every morning when he awoke as though he was being born for the first time.