A whiz and a giggle
Whizgiggled at on February 3, 2008.
I received the most intriguing email missive last night. Normally I dispose of all the email I receive, 90% of which are threats to find out who I am and have me forcibly institutionalized, but this email caught my eye. (And, got caught in my throat when I tried to swallow one of the copies I printed out.) This inscrutable message read:
Virgins always whizgiggled at me and even fellows did in the national bathroom! Well, now I laugh at them, because I took Meg, a dik. for 6 months and now my shaft is terribly bigger than world.
I pondered over its meaning for almost four hours. “Whizgiggle?” I wondermuttered. “Whatever does ‘whizgiggle’ mean, and why would a virgin ‘whizgiggle’ at the sender of this strange message?” I continued pondering until I nearly fell out of my chair. Yappie, my faithful hound, yapped at me in amusement.
And what, pray tell, was the “national bathroom”? Was this some sort of bathroom funded by the federal government? A taxpayer-funded bathroom? Why was this person using it? Why were these virgins “whizgiggling” at him therein? Curiouser and curiouser…
Finally, and this is what truly tied my brain in knots, I wondered what the expression “took Meg, a dik. for 6 months” was supposed to mean. Did this whizgiggling victim take a “dik” to some person named “Meg”, for six straight months? What was a “dik”? Who was this Meg? Was this Meg one of the virgins who had so callously whizgiggled at the writer of this email?! Was this Meg of Pam & Meg’s fame?! Why were there spurious commas and periods in this sentence??! And why did it take six months??!??!
I leapt from my chair, shrieking with grim determination. The table flipped over on its side, striking Yappie on the head. Yappie yapped, yelped, yurgled, and leapt to his own feet, knocking me on my buttocks and overturning a large vase, which fell against my fish tank, cracking the glass and spilling my prized gluefish all over my precious hardwood floors.
“Yappie! My gluefish! Look what you’ve done!” I howled as they stuck to the floor, dying. Dying. My beautiful gluefish. Adhering and dying.
I growled. My grim determination turned into a burning rage, burning hotter than the heat of a thousand Alyssa Milano posters—even the ones of her barefoot and naked. My anger flared, in sync with my nostrils. My eyes narrowed; my fists clenched… even my toes curled inward slightly. I pounded my chest like a furious gorilla. Yappie yelped and slinked off before he became the target of my unrelenting wrath.
“I’ll get you, you whizgiggling virgins, if it’s the last… thing… I… ever… do…”