(left to right) Cherub"flying infant", Cyprian"Whitedevil", Jamaal"Jamus of the X"(back), and Mike"Robot"
'We must read it,' he said. 'You too. All members of the Brotherhood have to read it.' 'Read it aloud. That's the best way.'~G.Orwell, 1984
Introduction: Greetings folks. Nice to see you. This website is dedicated to me and my "brother's" annual "Alby Mangels Week;" in which we go somewhere(usually a coastal area) and adventure about. On our first journey, we went to North Carolina's Outer Banks. And throughout our travels...I, as author and friend, journalized each remarkable day. Please enjoy!
(NOTE: The writing I used is very dense, and some of the wording is made-up for humorous purposes...but I assure you, in this writers opinion, I see it to be funnier in its' raw text. If any complication arise, please consult the glossary at the bottom of the page.)(All unusual words are noted with a *)
Log Entry Number 1: The trip is underway at last, and though hard to believe, the quarrelling has already begun (It's only 10:37am). However, the fights are always halarious and bring back memories of greatness. For example, Cyp reminds us that Mike "Assy-Cherub" Adams was once almost flung into a flock of ducks a the lake (Ha! Funny!). The trip is going just fine.
Cherub, me and Cyp woke around 7:30am. We were slow getting going and then we had to pick up Jam. What a slow black man! We even had to wait for his mother to come back from the store because Akeem(Jam's little brother) could not be left alone (note that I dont care much about Akeems life in the slightest). Cherub is a bad driver and Jam constantly tells him that. We have just stopped the Isuzu and Cherub chases Jam down "Kings Highway, bleeding(Jim Morrison quote." Not really although Cherub pops Jamaal in the jowls quite by accident. Now the trip resumes anew and I await more incidents to write about. "I wonder who will $#!% in the woods first,says Cyp (everyone looks at Cherub)." We are now in South Carolina and its 1:15 in the PM. Out comes the Goldfish! Cyp and I compete in Goldfish Wars. We each choose our champion and square off for battle. My humungus-like* strength and Rock Miavia-like* eloquence could not work in my favor for such a confrontation, for my fishs' peak was as fragile as eggs and broke with much infelicity throughout the Isuzu. I then ate the remains of my fallen warrior. And it was good...
My most hated song...Miss American Pie. Suddenly, this 10-min-bundle of monotinous death begins to play. With such furousity, I cover my bleeding ears. No avail. The penetrating devil music seeps through the atoms and molecules of my hand. Then, brilliently, I thrust my torso out of the windo of the moving automobile and the velocity of the wind over my robust, regal features make it impossible to hear the "Gak of Doom*." Freedom!!! Huntington Beach. We pay about $16 for the camsite. T2 was its' name. It lived up to its name, for it had flies with huge, sharp, pointy teeth. Terminator Flies. Had fun for a couple hours in the ocean watching Cherub on his new $60 boardo'buggie*. Everyone got a ride (on the board that is). Next...apon exiting the beach area Jam and I seemed to get deed* from all directions by the T2 bugs of doom. The flies kept landing on me legs and biting the hell out of them. To rectum, I mean..rectify the problem, we bring the OFF(bug-off) and doosch* ourselves with it. Did the trick marvelously. Ramon noodles and lemon-limeaide was our meal for the night. Hopefully tomarrow will have texturous, glorious meat. Maybe Halibut? Maybe the Mackerale? Who knows? But one thing that I DO know is that there will never be a truce to the queer-bashing and the silliness of this camp. Cherub is now angered at the fact that Jam and Casperilla(Cyp) will not shut up. I agree, however..it is probably only 10oclock or something. Hopefully too- it will not rain tonight. For we have everything outdoors. I am not sure of what will be tomorrow. Hopefully Ocracoke. But that is another story...
That Night: That night we got visited by a small, masked bandit. He was furry and with him, carried the fury of Beelzebub himself. I did not witness this mischeif misdemeanor-maker, for I was slez*. However, Cyp and Jam saw the raccoon in the dreaded auro of the centranilla candle. Actually, Cyp said,"He looked like a butt-bear." He also said that he had compassion for this little "whore" once. Not the "summers in Rangoon" or honeymoon in Niagra compassion that most man and beast have and share, but the kind that justmakes you say "cute bear." Like I had said, he held compassion once, and the pirate lost this trust on his 5th attempt to steal the box of food. Cyp had moved it closer to the window of the tent thinking, "Man, he isn't going to get too close to me." Yet Cyp was awakened for the trillionith time by the russle of paper. This "Eric Estrada, fat, lazy, zorro, butt-bear" stole the white-man's bread. As he drug it to his woodland lair, he looked back with his sukka-paw-face with an expression of "what do you want now?"
DAY 2: It is all a blur to me, but I will try to recall. We ALL woke up around 8am and Cherub suddenly became anxious to dip his swollen, overly-greasy-body into the foamy, salt water. Wrestling maneuvers were done in abundance. Then, we backed up camp and headed for the ferry (some 5hrs. away). We came up short. So, naturally, we were overjoyed at hearing that there was an 8:30pm ferry. As we waited outside of the car, Cherub and I speculated the up-coming weather. My calculations seemed to be bordering around the arse-area*. However, I knew it would be bringing cold winds behind it, I just didn't verbally announce it. Cherub seemed to be John Wendell* afterall, predicting the huge frontal mass as to be coming our way. We then took the "good vs. evil" picture. Oh yeah. I forgot the fact that we went through the Pavilions and stopped at Cam-Am Gifts(store). It mad Cherub and Me anger! The salespeople were very hostile and led dim-witted Jamaal around by his scrotum-sack. He took the first offer they gave him for an over-priced Wu-Tang shirt. Cyp was much more controlled although this elephant in a whoopass t-shirt showed him too many things that I know Cyp did not care about. Again, Cherub's anger started to bubble up like one of the pink zits on Jamaal's face. Apon getting on the ferry we got some food. Last minute supplies for a 2hr and 38min trip. We discussed our fears and everyone, except for brave Jam, agreed that being stranded in the middle of the ocean with nothing but dark ocean below, and death* clouds above..was not very scary. Evidently, Jam would be more scared of a spider 2cm in diameter. When I get back into the car I am able to slez* a little. We exit the 5-diesel-engine, mammoth ferry, and prepared to find somewhere to slez* for the night. We tried one parking lot but to our terror, a mexican broad was learning how to drive in and around parking lots. Finally, we stopped in the parking lot of the Ocracoke airport. I was as hot as Satan's arse and both Cyp and I were sweating and extremely uncomfortable. Jam had already bailed because of heat and bugs, and found comfort in the tent of Cherub. They slept together in perfect harmony. But that is another story....
Day 3: "It is by will alone, I set my mind in motion (Dune saying)." I can't set anything in motion this morning. I have lines all over my body and my back aches from the backseat cushions. I felt retched. Beat. Hark! Cyp just breathed new life into by quoting the all-mighty Bruce Lee. He said, "Empty your mind. Be formless. Shapeless. Like water." Wow! What a moving speech! (This was said on the ferry to Cape Hatteras. It seems that we are not going to the ghost-island of Portsmouth on this trip because it will cost $20each. Cyp and Jam are already short money because they were foolish and bought crap at Can-Am-Gifts. Now, with my new pen, raisan bread, and orange juice, I am ready for our next adventure. Guessing has it that we are going to camp on the dunes. (Note to self: Jam is wearing that Beavis and Butthead shirt...again) We just did the "King of the World"* picture. Once we were on the island, we went to the lighthouse. We swam at its' shore and all I can say is that Jam and I bulldogged* Cherub. The rage was relentless. He needed a movement with a quickness, but since he is the Sta-Puff marshmellow-man*, he was too slow. After that, we used the ol' 4X4 to eventually get bogged on the beach. It was quite "Albyish*" and I had foreseen something like this happening. It was quite hot and the frame of the "Dodge*" just rested on the sand. Luckily, a nice man came over and helped us out. We should have let some air out of the tires beforehand. Then, we swam again. Bulldogged* the "flying infant*" again and by 3oclock, were on our way. Traveled to Cape Cod to find that the campgrounds were full. Yes. Maybe now we can camp on the beach. Hmmm...I wonder who will $#!% first? The battle is between me and Jamaal. We both have gone 3 days. Stomach's a little heavy. Hopefully, with the grace of Krom*, I can hold out and set a log adrift in the mighty Atlantic. I have never done that before. Might be nice. (sigh) This trip is for adventure. I am willing to try anything once (except gayness). After all...this is Alby Week.
Cyprian, also part-time Leonardo Di'Caprio look-alike, does the famous Titanic call of "I'm the King of the World!", while aboard the Cape Ferry. He is also called Dodge, Whitedevil, Edward Scissorhands, & Tim Burton. Any women that want to get in touch with him can write to NUMBER630@AOL.COM
Science is wierd. The heaviness in my bladder turned into utter pain and I launched myself into the water. The experience was breathtaking. The current was about all I ever needed to propel the payday* from my lilly-white arse. I suggest everyone try it. Furthermore, you need not even wipe. Nature provides its own Mr. Clean agent to attack residue. Again, I was in awe about how easy it was. Once I returned to the car-apon-the-shore, I was ridiculed-like-a-boy* about one of my greatest accomplishments. He called me "caremel-butt*" (thinking that I should have wiped), and from then on, it got really lame. With the heaviness that was once apart of me floating in the Atlantic, I felt totally recharged (nice pun eh?). The next 3hrs were pure joy. I would have traveled for a whole day in order to recieve the pleasure that I recieved in those 3 little hours. After a short swim, I got dry. Then, all there was to do was slez*. Cyp looked extremely comfortable in his towel, pillow, and blanket, so I decided to "give it a go." I sprawled out on my back near the tide. I tried to judge it by the fact that the water would eventually hit me and I'd wake up. However, since the tide did not hit me, I gell asleep. I am not sure how long I was out, but it had to be a couple hours. After dinner of spagetti served by Chef Dom Adams*, we took pictures. Well...Fourth of July is tomorrow and the fireworks are already starting (I hear popping in the distance). (Other instances of importance: Jam jumpkicks Cyp in his ankle, Jam has hot-butt*, I put caramel-butt* on Cyp's pillow, and Jam annoys Cherub by setting off Isuzu horn). While writing in this journal I gaze momentarily at the vast ocean before me. So beautiful. Suddenly, Cherub, Jam and Cyp run up to me (not in that order) and tell me an outlandish story about how they spied on Cherub during his nature calling. Story has it that Cherub had to $#!% and was quite uncomfortable about doing so, because his shorts got in the way of his squatting. So, he removes them entirely and Cyp and Jam have an idea to use my camera for pornographic purposes. Jam rushes around the corner of the dune and to his horror...Cherub was there stark-naked, desperately covering up his willy. Cyp sees this display and starts to mimic his dog Pepsi with tremendous realizm. The urine runs down his leg as he laughs and, that...is when they run to me. It was semi-hard to believe because of Jam's marvelous acting ability, but I kinda trust them because they said they have it on film. I really hope we can camp out on the beach tonight. Hopefully the Law will not ride up with a vengence and scorn us infidels with the bad-book of justice. Is this the end of today's writings? One never knows. So long for now.
