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Happy birthday The Coop!

Broadcast Bowsette

By Broadcast Bowsette,
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The Coop Enthusiast

The Coop

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He's old...

Gonna fall apart soon...

Might as well wish him a happy birthday while he can still hear.

What was that? Ya gotta speak up sonny, I can't hear like I used to. Why, back in the day, I could hear a pin drop from fifty yards away. Now I have to turn up my TV so loud it makes Mr. Whiskers' fur blow from the force of the sound.

What? Bah, you ain't listenin' to me anyway. Damn little punks and their tweets and iPhones. What's wrong with using a rotary dial phone ya damn little shits? It worked for me for ages! And the only thing that should be tweeting are the birds!

**wanders off mumbling about jello**

Thanks for the birthday wishes good ladies and gentlemen of OCR :-)

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Meteo Xavier Contributor

Meteo Xavier

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Meteo Xavier, a man long regarded as the missing piece in mankind's everlong puzzle of why God hates good people, arrives to The Coop's birthday scene, uninvited as usual, and proceeds along a proscenium archway filled with the contemptuous stares of the upper class aerocrats. Meteo had started things off on the wrong foot by parking his car in a VIP section on the Northern terrace (breaking the fountain and exterminating Coop's prized gold rose bushes in the process), failed to present an invitation much to the house staff's eternal chagrin, and entered the building from a fire exit, effectively soaking the entire guest list in their Lux Magnum Tuxedos and expensive Royal Carradine dresses.

The stares only grew louder but still beneath the collective hush over the crowd that would have signaled Meteo out as he entered the Grand M'raude. This exquisite hallway was once a segue for Kings and other assorted Royalty to meet for their executive appointments from one pavilion to the other. Now it was a vein to the main royal party room where presents and the cake and catering where all held.

"Oh, Saints! What is that fool doing here?" growled Count Bleck from a corner with his largest constituents.

"I say!" cried Duke Slut as he swished a glass of L'entouille 1778. "You're right to cry foul, old boy. That wayward clod has trampled into yet another one of our exclusive soirees!"

"Damn fool..." whispered to unsweetened terms from the Emperor of Charlemagne. "I wish the disease that strickens him would think to maraud the lower classes once in a fucking while..."

From a distance, there was a short series of uptight yelps and cries from the eastern crowd to which Meteo had descended upon. His magic tricks fell on dumb luck as the old Looy's Sooperman, a favorite to very retarded youths in a gutter with no hope of ever being educated beyond the streets of Sussex, somehow covered Constable Halt and his attractive 23-year-old buxom wife in chocolate icing from head to toe, while he stumbled upon the table finishing a sentence the honorable Judge Oji and crushing the ice sculpture of Jon Talbain onto his bodess. Unaffected, Meteo bounced to the other side of the room, where his landing step caught Lady DragonAvenger's dress trail and tore the whole thing right off her and carried off into Meteo's obnoxious hurried footsteps. The poor lady screamed and screamed in humiliation, but her cries were drowned out by the sounds of pictures being taken.

"I say, chaps." Bleck started slowly as he puffed his gold-rimmed Saint Augillo XVIII cigar. "I think it's time this Meteo Xavier was educated in the fine art of aristocracy..."

"What do you mean, old boy?"

"Well, as honorary statesmen representing the people, it is our duty to do what we can for the interests of the commonwealth. With great power comes great responsibility..." and he narrowed his rat-like eyes beneath that impossible afro he likely stole from a passing Nigerian and pointed towards the galavanting Meteo Xavier. "and gentlemen, we have a GREAT responsibility before us..."

"Just like in the War!" cried Captain Wacky, former sniper for the King's Royal Rifle Corps of the 7th Armoured Division who often dreamed of driving a Vickers Medium Mark II right up the narrow anal cavity of Meteo Xavier.

"Here here! Yes, my fellow colleagues, we shall endeavor ourselves to educating young Master Xavier in how WE do things around here, or I shall scream brassafrax!" and with that Emperor Charlemagne began a game of pocket pool.

"Right, lads. So here is what we do..." and he huddled his good friends together and brought his voice soft to a whisper as he detailed the "curriculum vitae" for the poseur pauper.

Meteo Xavier, meanwhile, had informed the guests as a whole, very loudly, that he means to step outside for a piss. He found what he thought was the top hedge of a "Melaleuca Howeana" and urinated the entire Strait of Gibraltar on its green flesh. He was mildly embarrassed to find it was, in fact, the right honorable Queen of England.

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Meteo Xavier Contributor

Meteo Xavier

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Finally, as the fires were put out and most of the gifts were salvagable by Meteo Xavier's accidental shenanigans, the entire guest list was assembled in the Grand Viewing room for where they were to focus all of their birthday intentions on the Lord Chamberlain, the Right Honorable Coop.

During the evening, the Good Old Boys had noticed Meteo's pentant for Sparkling Green, the punch. He took 5 glasses in his first visit and 5 more in his second. As per the curriculum, Captain Wacky had secretly sealed off the punchbowl, infiltrated within it a liquid of unknown origins, and secured the last glass for Meteo Xavier. While this was happening, Schwartzvald, the Executive Director under direct supervision for the Lord Chamberlain, was approached by Countess Bleck and made aware of a certain, aristocratic coup d'état and for that Schwartvald agreed.

Meteo Xavier was placed in the center seat of the theater where he gorged on his mighty ambrosia of Sparkling Green and waited, as others did, for the Official Address from the Lord Chamberlain.

15 minutes later, Schwartzvald took to the podium and spoke on behalf of the Executive Direction.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it has come to my attention that there is a great abundance of ASS in this room... AND IT ALL STEMS FROM A SINGLE SOURCE!!!!"

Like the crack of lightening, the entire guest list turned to Meteo Xavier, who was now fat as a Hutt, and entirely circular. The effects of the unknown liquid took their toll on him in record volume. He opened his mouth to speak, but only Sparkling Green come out, like a waterfall, and he farted with the intensity of the end of the world.

"Cheezus Christ!" cried Earl OA.

"Sweet Heavens!" shouted The Author.

"Holy fucking shit!" screamed The Prophet.

"My God, someone call an ambulance!" cried The Derrick.

"God **** it, Meteo!" discussed Rajah Anso.

"What the hell, Meteo!" exasperated Overlord Level 99.

"What sort of a pox is this, I ask!" answered Sheriff Nekofrog.

"Blasphemy!" defied Sheriff Sammy D.

"Rot, what an idiot!" defined Shah Salzman.

"Look, he got it all over the floor! The fucking floor!" refined Pope Palpable.

"My dress is a fucking mess!" shrieked Duchess BGC.

"You're one hell of a dumb fuck, you schmuck!" screamed Transylvania Consulate Diotrans and the entire crowd descended on the pillar of a mess that was once Meteo Xavier.

"Please, good people! Hear my words of innocence so that justice may be averted!" But the minute Meteo began his righteous cry for the rights of people everywhere, he sharted like a manure field in a hurricane and the commonwealth removed him from the premises once and for all! Never to return to upper class society ever again!

As the crowd regained their seats, a spotlight shown on the Lord Chamberlain Coop, and Count Bleck, Captain Wacky, Emperor Charlemagne and the other guy I can't remember all came out onto the stage and took a bow.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COOP!"

And Coop shed a tear in jubilation. It was the greatest birthday gift he had ever gotten...

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Meteo Xavier Contributor

Meteo Xavier

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At the south end of the manor, the doors were opened by party security to allow inside a large wheeled table with a very large object on it, pushed by none other than the famous Sous Chef, Darkesword.

"Good timing, Monsieur! We were ready to lock the door."

The other guard lifted up the sheet covered the object to glance a look. "What do you have here, anyway?"

Monsieur Darkesword stopped the cart, looked the man straight in the eye and said:

"Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake!"

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