This is Madness!
Author's note: Ah yes, it is indeed madness. The mind of Mysterydude is a scary place at two a.m. I suddenly imagined a world where EVERYTHING had an anthropomorphic version. It hasn't really been edited at all, and it's probably not as funny as it seemed when I wrote it and to be perfectly honest, it's kind of just a time waster. Yeah, it's short, it's dumb, it's filled with horrendous puns and terrible jokes. Enter if you dare...
Frank the anthropomorphic couch stormed into the rec room of the house he shared with his three roommates, finding Al in his usual place, jogging on the treadmill and listening to music on an Ipod.
"Dude will you stop running for a minute?!" Frank yelled, getting the refrigerator's attention.
"WHAT?!" Al replied, not removing his earphones.
"I SAID, STOP RUNNING!"
"Oh, it's okay dude, you don't have to yell," Al said, finally stopping the machine and removing an earphone.
Frank rolled his eyes. "Look man, this has GOT to stop. I've been putting up with your bad habit of leaving the door open for, I dunno, three months now? CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR!"
Al's eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah? Well how about the dust bunnies and loose change you leave all over the place? You could at least clean up after yourself once and awhile!"
"You're telling ME to clean up? You've had that leftover sizzling shrimp from Fongs in you for six weeks! It reeks dude!"
"The ladies love it."
"Go unplug yourself."
"Get stuffed!"
The door slammed open, revealing a bleary eyed Steve glaring balefully at them.
"I am TRYING to take a nap here, now would you two PLEASE shut the puck up?!" the Ambitropin bottle proclaimed.
"Oh, sure, sorry dude," Frank said. He poked his head into the next room, where Pete the hockey puck was trying to block out the arguing to concentrate on practicing his operatic solo number for his upcoming play.
"Hey Pete, Steve says shut-up, he's trying to sleep."
"Yeah? Well tell him to self-medicate."
0.O
Next door, Mrs. Mcgillicutty bade her son goodbye, sending him off to school
"Now remember Joey, NO RUNNING!" she admonished.
The young pair of scissors rolled his eyes. "I KNOW mom!"
0.O
Outside on the street, Carl the Hummer stood talking to Rob, his Mustang friend.
"So then I says, 'Look bub, if I don't get my wax job done right and real soon, somebody's gonna get hurt.'" He took another drag of exhaust, twirling the cancer stick between his fingers.
"Heh, and he got it done, right?"
"Hell yeah he did! And... Hey, ain't that Cally?"
Rob turned to look, at the Corvette headed their way. "I think it is! She looks a little different though. Did she get a lube job?"
"I think she did!"
Both vehicles tried to discreetly flex without appearing to flex, as they ogled the approaching 'Vette.
Carl whistled. "Hey babe! Ya doin' anything tonight?"
She flashed them a chrome grin. "I believe I told you Carl, I'd rather get my tires rotated."
"Ooh, burned rubber!" Rob hooted.
"C'mon babe, don't be that way? I can treat ya right!" Carl pleaded.
She gave him a tap on the chest, setting off his alarm. "You're leaking washer fluid Carl."
He glanced down at his axle, face flushing as Rob laughed at his ineptitude. "Aw shift!"
0.O
"Oh Phil, that's so sweet!" Julie exclaimed, the rosebush happily accepting the bag of manure from the aphid. "My favourite!"
"Anything for you my dear," he replied with an oily grin.
"You really DO love me! I was beginning to worry that you only wanted to get between my petals." She threw her arms around him, enveloping the smaller anthro.
Phil leaned into the hug, although his eyes were suddenly watering for some reason. "Julie," he coughed. "What's that scent you're wearing?"
She pulled back from the hug, still holding him close. "Oh, it's just the latest from DDT. It's called Man-eater."
"Julie, that's..." he trailed off, coughing and hacking, before falling backwards onto the floor, stone dead.
"NOOOO! PHIILLL!!"
0.O
In a nearby doctor's office, Harold awaited the news. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the doc returned, a solemn expression on his face.
"I'm sorry to tell you this Harold, but you only have three weeks to live."
Harold cringed, waiting to hear more, but the doc did not speak further.
The housefly's face lit up. "So I'm perfectly healthy then!"
0.O
New York City
Pedestrians shouted and screamed, as they tried to avoid the crashing footsteps of the Statue of Liberty and the Lincoln memorial, as they strolled arm in arm through Times Square. A pizza ran by, weaving through the crowds, yelling, "Oh shit! Oh shit!" As he was pursued by a gang of forks.
A stop sign casually strolled into traffic, enjoying the angry shouts of drivers as they slammed on the brakes to avoid him. "Yeah, that's right! Right-of-way! This is now a four way stop!"
On the jumbo-tron, a cardboard cut-out of Don King filled the screen.
"Here it is folks, the match of the century! Finally we have Mac vs. PC! The gloves are coming off in this match, and it's starting right now! Let's get ready to ruuummmbbbllllllle!!!!"
The camera cut to the ring, where the two buff computers faced off. The bell rang, and Mac opened with a flurry of copyright infringements, which PC countered with a blizzard of rushed release hardware. Blow met blow, the mighty titans dancing and weaving, neither giving any quarter.
As floppies and flash drives flew, the two started grappling, getting into the more vicious stage of the match.
The ref tried to separate them, as they started gigabiting and hitting below the processor. The poor printer was merely thrown back, too outdated to be compatible with either of them, despite only being a year old. Nothing was going to stop these two titans from settling their clash!
Finally, when the pixels cleared, the crowd gasped, as both lay on the floor in KO. A new challenger had appeared. Linux Lewis had entered the ring.
0.O
On the porch of Shady Acres of Eternal Rest and Enlightening Peace retirement home, two aged game cartridges slowly rocked in their chairs, enjoying each other's company.
"I tell ya Sonic, kids these days just don't get it. I remember the good old days, when folks didn't need to buff themselves up and use CD."
"I hear ya Mario. My grandkids, bless their souls, visited me yesterday. You know what one of them told me? He said he'd become a Werehog! A WEREHOG!"
Mario shook his head sadly. "I know what ya mean. Mine are just as bad. They've started consorting with my old rival, even playing tennis with him!"
"I miss the simpler, eight-bit, 2D times Mario."
"I do too Sonic, but we're just relics of the past now."
"Shame that."
"Tis true."
0.O