Hola Choloz y Gringaz!
As you know, for the past month, Craig has been forcing other people to do Puntabulous blog entries while he writes ‘a novel.’ We know you’ve all been in Punta-withdrawl, not being able to sleep/eat/listen to good muzak. So leave it to your two favorite handsome, talented, charming bloggy heroez, Enrico & Josh, to save the day. Last week, we axed Craig to go out with us for a night of drinking/hanging out/sex in Nueva York, only minus the drinking and sex. While he stood at Penn Station, waiting with Rhonetta and all the otha hookerz, E.Copterz & Josherz were actually cracking their way through the fortress that is Craiggerz house. After sneaking past his parents playing Wii Fit in the nude, we finally found his bedroom and went through his desk drawer, feat. hair gel, nail polish (Ruby Red and Ghetto Purple), nude pictures of Dave. S, and no condoms. We bust in the door of the secret safe in his closet. After dumping out all the Viagra and unicorn chaser, we came across what we were looking for all along: a nude picture of Craig that will finally dispel that… big rumor. But under the picture, we found something that also looked like it might be kind of interesting: a manuscript. And we’d like to share with you, PuntaPeepz, the much-awaited Craiggerz manuscript, “A Thousand Mile Troubled Love Story.”
Rutina Jones rocked slowly in the old chair on her front porch and looked to the setting sun. Her cracking hands were nestled in her lap, gently stroking her cat’s purring side. Flies collided with the netting that surrounded the porch, installed there to protect Rutina from the insects and bad memories that sometimes forced their way onto her front porch and into her decrepit mind. It was July, she was tired of being brave, and as she shut her eyes and let the humidity cover her like woolen blankets, she let her mind drift back to when she first saw him.
She was standing on her balcony and staring forlornly into the dark woods that surrounded her father’s castle, her new white dress draped against her maturing body. It had been five months since Kristoff had gone, under his father’s orders, to join the local cavalry. His cavalry was expected to reach Loontown that night, and Rutina eagerly awaited their arrival, as few travelers ever visited her father’s castle. Her bosoms heaved like sweaty pouches of mud, as her heartbeat quickened and her eyelashes whipped the air at their command. She had begun to grow weary of her familial tomb in the castle. Mother and father were all she ever knew, and she craved more.
Rutina heard clomping behind her and felt the ground shake beneath her feet. She eagerly looked to the west, hoping to see the cavalry’s arrival. However, it was just her fat uncle Kevin dancing behind her, moving his feet more quickly than she thought possible and holding a beer in the air that kept splashing from the mug and hitting his bald head. His gut was slapping with thunderous applause at the beginning of the night’s welcome gala. The courtyard in the center of her father’s garish castle was turned into a carnival ground with jesters and delicacies from the furthest lands, meant to honor the cavalry and entertain the king’s only three friends who just flew in from Pittsburgh that morning. Feeling invaded by her uncle’s presence on her balcony, Rutina walked through the double doors that lead to her bedroom and collapsed on her bed. She shut the doors behind her and locked them, leaving her uncle Kevin still dancing on the balcony, unaware of his new role as prisoner.
“Are you feeling alright?” Her eyes darted, startled like new born pussy cats to a figure seated in the corner of her room—a man, who seemed small with his slouched over stature and held a knight’s helmet under his bandaged wrist.
“What are you doing in my bedroom?” Rutina asked, hoping her attempt at intimidation would mask the excited curiosity she felt.
“I’m sorry, your pops sent me up here to introduce myself,” the man said, rising from his chair and approaching Rutina. “My name, well, it’s Kristoff. I come from the furthest regions of Puntabuland and I have served in the cavalry this year past. We are returning from an operate mission along the coast of Oceania where we saved Goddess Syesha from the evil clutches of Dragonia Glamberface.”
She felt annoyed at his boasting and spat, “I don’t know what that means.” And she turned her back to him, though she couldn’t deny the small smile that graced her face when he spoke again.
“I like that fabric” he said, looking at her new gown. She was silent. “Well, I only came up here to introduce myself, and now that I have…” She heard footsteps behind her and when she turned, he was gone.
Tears fell like bullet onto her front porch. Those memories are gone. The carnival and its splendor and the candid looks she and Kristoff shared were all gone. The feast where they kicked each other’s shins under the table…the hours they spent listening to Mistral K. Perry sing of hard candies and Indians summers… all gone. In their place sat the day she opened the letter that read “KILLED IN ACTION.” A day she would never forget or forgive. Dragonia Glamberface would pay for his trespasses on her heart.
Rutina’s old Tabby jumped from her arms and darted across the porch. She looked to the open field in front of Rutina’s house, her head lifted, her ears perked. In the distance, Rutina could hear an approaching sound, oddly familiar but too quiet to make out. “Something is coming,” thought Rutina. Like an angel tinkering at pearl white bones, a melody began playing. An all too familiar ditty that sounded a thousand miles off, yet was closing in upon her. She could see two figures in the distance, horsebound, carting behind them what seemed to be an oddly placed piano. Seated, another figure played and started singing, “If I could fall…into the sky…”
Rutina’s heart raced. Visitors to her home grew more infrequent as time passed. Besides from trips to the grocery store every now and then, Rutina often felt closed off from society. As the horses grew nearer, Rutina noticed that one horse was strangely colored; its bright pink fur seemed to sparkle in the sun, leaving behind it a trail of glitter in the air. The other horse was a beautiful steed as well—a white horse that had its rider nestled in its magnificent mane. His owner was a petite girl with delicate features and crimped corn-colored hair that blew in the breeze. While the woman playing the piano was kind of homely, Rutina was still awed by the beauty of the three women. They grew nearer and nearer until finally, they reached the house…. and passed it.
Rutina felt confused and dejected. As disappointment welled in her, she realized she couldn’t let her chance for adventure elude her so easily. “WAIT!” she screamed, jumping off the porch and running around the house.
The rider of the pink horse turned around. Her masculine features caught Rutina off-guard. She jumped from the steed with a grunt and strutted over to Rutina who grew shaken at the approach of such a forceful woman. The rider, whose hair was a bright fuchsia opened her thin lips and spoke: “So…. What?”
“I-” Rutina was at a loss for words. The fuchsia-haired women stood resolutely in the grass, waiting for Rutina’s response. “I thought maybe you’d like to come in for coffee? I know you seem in a hurry-” The woman walked back to her horse and mounted. “Please don’t leave me!” Rutina shouted as the horses began trotting. Rutina knew, like a secret she vaguely remembered from childhood, that these three beauties were meant to be more than a passing notion, than teardrops on a guitar. She chased after them and grabbed a hold of the pianists arm as she sat perched at her transit piano.
“Put YOUR hands on me? Who are you strange flowy dress girl?” she said, breaking her song. Rutina ran alongside the trio of beautiful women, holding onto the pianist’s arm.
“I’m Rutina!” she shouted over the sound of the horse’s steps and the rusty wheels below the piano. “Take me with you!” The pianist struggled to free her arm but Rutina held tight.
“STOP!” the pianist yelled.
“This girl looks like trouble, now,” said the bright-haired manly one. “What is your name and what’s your effing deal?” They stopped the carriage and all three warriors stared down at a now panting Rutina. Rutina knelt on the ground, seeming defeated for a moment.
“I’m Rutina,” she repeated. “And I’m tired of sitting at home, thinking about him.” Her eyes filled with tears. “My husband, he was…. I’m so-”
The blonde cut her off: “Tell me why we would have any use of you.”
“Yeah,” added the pianist, “We are an elite group and we recruit only the best heroes and thieves around.”
She was speechless. She thought, “what could I possibly bring to this group of multi-platinum stars?” She stuttered out loud: “Well, I err…I can…my talents lie in my…I mean…”
The gentle white horse-riding goddess asked, “Well, you seem to have the face of an angel that…”
The fuschia-hair one interrupted, “Stop being nice, T. Swift! This ho ain’t got nuffin’ we would want. She’d be a bad influence on us.”
T. Swift bent down beside Rutina. “Sorry hon, but we gotta get going. You see, we are not only super talented, fearless, and beautiful, but we’re also trying to change the world. And to do that, we need to hurry up before Glamberface makes his next move, so just breathe and go on home.”
T. Swift rose and returned to her steed. Suddenly, Rutina’s eyes lit up. ” You are after the terrible Glamberface!? I was merely hoping to accompany you on your journey so to escape my loneliness, but NOW YOU MUST TAKE ME. He is the cholo that ripped my loved one away from me. My Kristoff was going to kill the monster once and for all, but alas he never returned.”
“That might be sad and cliche, but how do we know that you are the one that will help us end his rule?” the pianist asked. “What could you possible do for us?”
Rutina laughed and stood up, wiping off her dress. “Come on ladies, what really works in threes? 3LW? Destiny’s Child? Blaque? Come on. You know you need one more. And I can be the one.” The women looked at each other cautiously, then rallied and began mumbling. Rutina nervously awaited their response. Rutina then added, “OH! And I have an unlimited supply of Shark Bites fruit snacks!” All three female singer/songwriters perked up.
The funhouse leader squinted her eyes, “Including the delish white ones?” Rutina smiled and laughed, “Those are the only ones I have!” She was then inducted into their group and the four of them went on their way towards the Oceania coast, to hunt that dreaded Glamberface.
And so the four fabulous ladies rode for three days, scaling mountains and fording rivers. Rutina never complained about eating the squirrels that the pink-haired leader killed for dinner or sleeping atop the piano of the pianist (who she discovered was called V. Carlton), as the dedication to her lost lover spurred her on. After many rousing renditions of “99 Bottles (of Water)” the women finally arrived at the evil Glamberface’s lair. It was a large palace, phallic in shape and stinking of sloppy seconds and drunken mistakes. The huge cock fortress jutted out from the coast of Oceania like a throbbing member from an excited teen’s gym shorts. T. Swift shuttered at the impurity of it all. V. Carlton vommed remembering her first time (’twas hard to explain), Rutina grew sad at missing the intimate moments with her loved one, while the p!nk-haired warrior yawned in disinterest. Suddenly, a voice spoke to the gang: “Finally, you have come….” The women looked around, trying to identify the speaker. Then, the voice spoke again. “Seek me not, for I am speaking directly to your minds…. They are like televisions, with all the tubes inside. And a television is like a city. See all the people moving around?” The girls were super confused, but listened on. “I am Icelandic goddess who rules over Oceania. Since Glamberface has erected his fortress on my land, I have been trapped under the sea. Please, vanquish the foul beast and free me from my water prison.”
“Shall we goes ladies?!” The p!nk-haired warrior said, jumping off of her steed. “I call upon the powers of Funhouse,” she said, thrusting her arm towards the penis palace.
T. Swift jumped off her horse and gently floated to the ground. “I call upon the powers of Fearlessness,” she said shooting her arm next to her companion.
Standing up from her stool, V. Carlton stepped away from her piano and tripped, falling not-so-gracefully to the ground, like a beautiful bag of rocks. Standing up and shaking off her embarrassment, she joined her singer-songwriter sistas: “I call upon the powers of Harmonium!” And with her joining the others, Rutina watched as a bright light flew from their outstretched arms and shot towards the palace’s locked front door. “BE NOOOOOOT NOOOOOOOOBOOODY!” And with that, the door disintegrated like so much dust.
The women marched into the phallus and were confronted with a crazy long staircase. “This must lead to the tip– er, top of the tower!” said V. Carlton. The women climbed the stairs until they faced large double doors.
“Are we ready?” asked the p!nk-haired leader. The women nodded and their brave leader kicked down the door.
“Mwuahahahahahah! Welcome to my mad world!” A sickenly deep yet effeminate voice erupted from the darkness in front of them.
“Who is there?” V. Carlton shouted. More laughter spewed towards them as a light began to cascade on a large throne in front of the ladies. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but for breaking my front door, I will have to break your soul!” uncreatively shouted the now exposed Glamberface.
“You’re not sorry!” cooed T. Swift.
“Oh you are right. I am not. But I will still destroy your existence! There is nothing a measly group of girls could do to me!”
“Well, doucheface, we’re not most girls!” shouted the p!nk-haired leader.
Glamberface rose from his throne and looked menacingly at the gang. “Get them!” he screamed in a high pitched voice. A group of warriors burst from a door behind the throne. Kristy Lee Cook, Sanjaya Malakar, Chikezie and Danny Noriega charged at the gang.
V. Carlton danced circles around Kristy Lee Cook, confusing the proud American, then kicked her, knocking her unconscious. Rutina rummaged through her pockets and found a leftover hot dog from last night’s dinner. She threw it out of the window and watched as Chikezie leapt through the window and disappeared from sight. Danny Noriega strutted his twinkle feet over to T.Swift, but homegirl was totally not playing with his dirty shiz. Whipping his greasy emo bangs in her direction, T. Swift spun around in a circle, shedding a blinding barrage of glitter into Danny’s load face.
“I’m blind!” he shouted before falling to the ground and crying like a little bitch. Then lastly, there was Sanjaya in all of his out of tune glory. His mohawk was glowing with seething anger and was flared and ready to strike. The p!nk-haired leader snapped her fingers and like a hawk in the sky, God appeared above her. With the scratching of disc jockey’s turntables, Sanjaya was called into submission by the DJ’s heavenly waves. His head started pulsating with the biblical jams before exploding in a shower of hair gel and non-brains.
“Ha! Those losers didn’t even make it to the finale,” Glamberface said, raising his arms in the air. “You will never survive my secret weapon….” The women braced themselves, unaware of what exactly Glamberface’s secret power was. Rutina noticed that Glamberface was beginning to open his mouth and quickly covered her ears, but the other women didn’t react as quickly…. From the depths of Glamberface’s evil core, a terrifying screech escaped his mouth, piercing the brains/souls of T. Swift, V. Carlton, and the p!nk-haired leader. The women screamed in pain, falling to the ground. Rutina watched as their bodies shook with convulsions, her hands against her ears helping keep her sane. Finally, the screech turned into a fit of laughter as Glamberface looked at the fallen warriors and reapplied some foundation.
Rutina scanned the room, hoping to find something that would help her gain the upper hand. She then noticed a bucket of water in the corner…. The water was crystal clear and as she looked into the bucket at her own reflection, she thought about her lost love. Her eyes stared back at her, uncovered, raw, crying. And she looked up at the laughing Glambertface. The three pounds of cover up on his face shed a dusty powder around the room. Knowing that he was only 10% talent, Rutina knew that it was Glamberface’s image as a severely irritating bitchy queen that gave him his true power. And how does one take down a terrifying monster queen? Her head perked up as she grabbed the bucket and lunged it at him.
The water drenched his jizzface and left streaks of eyeliner to mix with foundation and leaving his acne scars glistening against the disco strobe light above him. “I’m melting!” Glamberface shrieked, covering his revealed terrorface with his arm. Rutina ran up to Glamberface and grabbed his bony shoulders, dragging him to the window. She pulled the window shut and forced Glamberface to look into the windowpane, at the frightful reflection that stared back at him. He dissolved into tears and fell to the ground, his black leather pants squeaking on the tiles beneath him, making a sound ten times more pleasant than his singing voice.
“My lover is gone, and… it’s all your fault!” Upon hearing Rutina’s final words, the p!nk-haired leader rose and walked to her companions side. “Your evil deeds prematurely ended my love story!” T. Swift rose and joined the gang. “But you will never terrorize the world with your voice again! You will not win Glamberface! Not this time!!!” And with that, the four girls combined their powers and lifted up V. Carlton’s piano and lobbed it over to Glamberface. It landed with a crash and crushed his stupid face into a thousand ugly pieces. The gang looked down at the destroyed Glamberface, reflecting on their victory. But their reflection was abruptly brought to an end when they heard shouting from beneath Glamberface’s throne.
The p!nk-haired leader pushed the throne over, revealing a trap door. She pulled it open and the gang hopped in, finding themselves in a prison. “He’s been keeping people down here, forcing them to hear his singing from above. How horrible!” T. Swift said, opening the first door and freeing a sexy, shirtless stud who was humming “Heartless” and sadly strumming his acoustic guitar. The p!nk-haired leader unlocked another door and a fierce African-American lady in a little red dress hopped off a piano and sang the high note from “I Believe.” But of course no one noticed and the gang continued to unlock cells. V. Carlton found a guitar in one cell, floating magically in the air and strumming spell-binding melodies. Poignant and mature lyrics appeared on the body of the guitar. V. Carlton was preparing to unlock the door when she noticed a tag hanging from the fret board: “M. Branch’s Talent.” V. Carlton whistled and casually passed the cage, pretending it was empty. Finally, Rutina neared the final cell at the end of the dark hallway.
“Kris….Kris…Kristoff?” She murmured like a lost little girl as she approached the cell. She peered in. Inside there was nothing but a helmet. The same helmet she remembered from years before. “Where…where is he?!” she cried out.
“Ho, he’s dead. Remember? He got eaten? You thought he was actually gonna be alive? You iz stupid,” the blunt, p!nk-haired leader said.
Rutina cried and they all laughed at her. Then, like a call from an angel, a heavenly voice floated down the corridor. “A few stolen moments… is all that we share…” The gang looked up and saw a beautiful divine being approaching them. “Cause tonight, is the night!” The gang joined in and sang along, “We’ll be making love the whole night through!! Cause I’m saving all my love for you!”
The five women walked out of Glamberface’s abandoned castle arm in arm and began their long journey home. From behind them, the Icelandic goddess emerged from the sea and blew them kisses and for a moment, all was full of love. Even though Rutina knew Kristoff was gone forever, she had four great friends and a sense of accomplishment from thwarting the evil Dragonia Glamberface. Plus, the heartthrob from the first jail cell was following close behind….
