Chapter 22

“Aight, yo yo yo yo, we gotta get this plan shit in action, B,” said Wolverine.
“Word, dawg, I’ll fuckin’…I’ll fuckin’…fuck this jerk in his fucking face, dude. Dude, I'm a fuckin' killa; I'm crazy!” agreed Spiderman. Our heroes were on a three-day meth binge, trying to craft a plan to defeat the evil Mr. Crazy. So far, all they had figured out was how to rock that crystal.
“Yeeeeeah!” growled Wolverine, “Man, okay, I am just totally hyped the fuck up and ready to have sex!”
“Okay, okay,” said Spiderman, “Okay, we just need to just, like, get our shit together for a second.”
“Yeah, totally dude,” concurred Wolverine, “We should, uh…we should organize our planning space, right, so that our minds aren’t distracted by the noise from the clutter and shit.”
“Okay, okay,” said Spiderman, “Dude, okay, Wovlerine…Wolverine…you’re on trash duty, okay? You, um, get a garbage bag and pick up all these cups and papers and shit and then take them to the dumpster.”
“Got it!” affirmed Wolverine, jumping up and running into the kitchen of Spiderman’s modest one-bedroom apartment.
“Okay, so…Wolverine’s gonna pick up the trash…and I…I am gonna organize all the drug paraphernalia into nice little rows!” exclaimed Spiderman, glad to have thought of a reasonably important task for himself. Just as Spiderman was beginning to move stuff around on the coffee table in front of him, Wolverine called out from the kitchen.
“Oh, shit!” he yelled.
“What?”
“Well…you’re all out of garbage bags!”
“Well…okay…um…use a regular bag.”
“Okay!” With that minor dispute resolved, Spiderman was free to get back to his organizing. He began to sort all of the bongs and rolling papers and crack pipes and regular pipes and razor blades and stems and scales and pill pressers and shit. Just as he had grouped each bit of paraphernalia by drug, Wolverine emerged from the kitchen with a fancy bag from The Gap that had a drawstring and everything.
“Wa-wa-wait wait wa-wait wait wait…” stammered Spiderman, “Don’t use that bag. I like that bag.”
“Jesus!” exclaimed Wolverine. “Okay, jeez, okay I’ll go get another one. Are there any other special bags that I should avoid, while I’m looking for something to put trash in sarcastically?”
“No,” replied Spiderman succinctly, and then he returned to his sorting. After he had everything in loose groups, he began to take those groups and put their contents into nice little rows, just like he had set out to do. As he rounded out the marijuana paraphernalia section, Wolverine emerged from the kitchen triumphantly with a large black garbage bag. Spiderman looked up from his work as he heard Wolverine poofing the bag out in the air.
“I thought you said I was all out of trash bags…” said Spiderman with suspicion in his voice.
“I found one!”
“Where was it?”
“It was actually, this is funny, at the bottom of the box of garbage bags! The box was under the sink and when I looked in it the first time, I didn’t see it because it was flat on the bottom and it was dark down there…but then, just on a whim, I felt around in the box and I felt the bag and I got really excited and pulled it out!”
“Good work, man.”
“Okay, yeah, and guess what?”
“What?”
“There’s still another garbage bag left in the box.”
“Nice!” was Spiderman’s reply, and he quickly got back to the task at hand as Wolverine danced around, picking up all sorts of trash in a semi-efficient manner. By the time, Spiderman had finally finished organizing the “miscellaneous” section of his drug paraphernalia collection and Wolverine was almost done with his trash-cleaning efforts, as well.
“Wa-wa-wait wait wait…” said Spiderman, causing Wolverine to pause and look at stare pal with pupils as big as silver dollars. “Wolverine…make sure you don’t throw away anything important.”
“Okay,” replied Wolverine. “I won’t.” As Wolverine scooped up the last of the trash, you hope, Spiderman sat back and admired his handiwork, trembling just a little bit as he did so. Then he remembered that in order to craft a plan, he and Wolvo would need paper and a pencil. He proceeded to hop up and run over to his printer and grab a few sheets of blank paper.
“Pens, pens…” mumbled Spiderman, “Where I do keep my pens?” His line of thought became unnecessary as he spotted a mug stuffed with sitting on his computer desk, handily available for anybody using meth to make meth-inspired art while they are on drugs and doing drugs such as meth, meth, meth, meth, meth, meth, meth. You'll notice I said meth seven times; he grabbed a pen. On the top end of the pen was a tiny replica of his head, which Spiderman stared at for a couple of seconds before hustling back over to his sofa. Wolverine had just finished running all of the garbage out to the dumpster, which is actually a very important place kind of, and he plopped down right next to Spiderman, saying,
“Nice, that was a smart idea to get something to write on…and something to write with, too. Good thinkin’.”
“Thanks,” thanked Spiderman. “Okay, now that we’ve got everything perfect, let’s get down to business and draw up this plan.”
“Okay…so where do we start?” pondered Wolverine.
“Well…okay, okay, so this is how we’ll start…we need to start with figuring out how to lure Mr. Crazy out of hiding.”
“Right! Yeah, totally! One hundred percent on board with ya here, buddy!”
“Okay, so, we’re gonna need something that he wants…something that he needs…so, Wolverine, tell me, what does a crazy person need?”
“He needs…he needs…to play with his own poop?”
“Exactly. Okay, I’m gonna write that down. P…o…o…p. Poop. Okay.”
“Hey, speaking of poop,” smiled Wolverine, “I have to go drop the Cosby kids off at the pool, so to speak…I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”
“Okay. Hey, while you’re up, could you turn on the boombox? I need some thinkin’ music.”
“Sure, thing pal.”
Wolverine jumped off of the couch and hit the play button on Spiderman’s official Spiderman-brand boombox, which was blue with a red handle. The Boyz II Men song “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” came bumping through the Spiderman head-shaped speakers, filling up the apartment with the soulful crooning of Wanye and the gang. Then Wolverine went into Spiderman’s bathroom and took a dump and it was really loud with lots of farting noises, and Spiderman was like,
“Ewww, gross!” Luckily the farting noises stopped before the brief song faded off into memory land, and Spiderman was able to enjoy a moment of oneness with the greatest all-male harmony ever to walk to face of America.
Spiderman heard the sound of his Spiderman-brand toilet flushing, quickly followed by Wolverine exiting the restroom. Wolverine sat down next to Spiderman, excited to get back to the crafty planning.
“Okay, where were we? Oh yeah, poop,” remembered Wolverine. Spiderman just stared at Wolverine intently. “What?” asked Wolverine with sass in his voice.
“You didn’t wash your hands.”
“Yes I did.”
“No…you didn’t. The bathroom is right next to the living room, so you can hear when somebody is using the sink.”
“Okay, so I didn’t wash my hands…Jesus fucking Christ it’s not like my fingers actually touched my asshole.”
“How do I know that?”
“…okay, so one of my fingers touched my asshole, but I wiped it off with lots of toilet paper.” Once again, Spiderman simply stared at his friend for a bit.
“Okay, anyway,” sighed Spiderman, getting back to the planning, “So, what’ve we got so far?”
“Well, we know Mr. Crazy probably wants to play with his own poop.”
“Right, right,” rapped Spiderman, “So…I guess the question we need to ask now is…”
“What does he need to play with his poop?” interjected Wolverine.
“Exactly. So…”
“Gloves.”
“What?” asked Spiderman, perplexed.
“He needs gloves to play with his own poop.”
“I guess…but, okay, I really don’t think he’s much of a glove man.”
“Okay, so he doesn’t need gloves, but what he does need,” smiled Wolverine, “What he really truly needs more than anything else, the thing which will enable him to play with his poop very well issss…chopsticks.”
“What?” asked Spiderman, perplexed.
“Okay, okay, stick with me here. Okay so Mr. Crazy’s gonna wanna poke his poop, right? Well…chopsticks are perfect for that!”
“Good point. Very good point; the meth doesn't affect you negatively at all!”
“Okay, yeah, but I’m not finished. Okay, so let’s say he gets tired of poking his poop. Sounds crazy, I know, but you have to remember who we’re dealing with here. Okay so anyway, so he’s sitting there, or he’s laying on his stomach or something, and he’s got his poop and he’s sick of just poking holes in it with the chopsticks. The next logical step, of course, is to spit in his poop. He’ll probably piss on it too. Shit, if this motherfucker’s as crazy as I think he is, he’ll mostly likely jack off onto, or with, the poop.”
“Okay, I’m following you so far,” acknowledged Spiderman.
“Right on. Okay, okay, so he’s got this poop, and it’s covered in shit and piss and cum, right? Well the next logical step is to mix all of that up into a shitty, pissy, spitty, cummy mess.”
“And that’s where the chopsticks come in.”
“Right, totally. We’ll give him a little bowl or something, and he can just whip it up like ‘Plow!’ Ya know what I’m sayin’?”
“Word, I feel ya, homebase,” said Spiderman, pounding a fist on his chest.
“But wait, it gets better, dude. Get this. Alright, so say he’s still got some solid feces left over, he’s gonna wanna eat it right?”
“Right.”
“Okay, so what’s he gonna eat it with? A fork? It’s just gonna slide right off. But with the chopsticks…”
“…but with the chopsticks, he can just snag up a nice glob and pop it in his mouth.”
“Okay, fucking exactly!” shouted Wolverine at the top of his lungs.
“Yeah, but why can’t he just use a spoon?”
“Dude…you’re killing my vibe, here.”
“Okay, okay, let’s just stick with the chopsticks, I’m really liking this idea, for whatever reason.”
“Right on, so, okay, this is really coming together here, but I think…I think we’re just missing…that certain something…I guess.”
“I know what you mean…it’s just…it’s just like I’m sure Mr. Crazy is going to love using chopsticks to play around with his own poop…” mused Spiderman, “But if we’re gonna lure this guy into our grasp, we’re gonna need to hit a poop home run.”
“Damn, dude,” groaned Wolverine, “Have you been writing this down?”
“Shit,” cursed Spiderman, “No, shit, the only think I’ve written down so far is the word ‘poop.’ ”
“Okay, well, dude, before we forget, you should write down something about chopsticks.”
“Okay, okay, okay, here I go…c...h…o…p…s…t…i…x.”
“Ha,” chuckled Wolverine, “I like what you did with the ‘x’ there.”
“Yeah, you like that? I just kinda came up with that one on the fly, ya know?”
“Yeah; that’s dope,” complimented Wolverine. “Oh, shit, okay, I almost forgot, we’re gonna need that bowl for Mr. Crazy to put all of his shit and spit and such in…so write that down.”
“Okay, hold on…b…o…w…l.” spelled out Spiderman. “Okay, got it.”
“Okay, wait, what were we talking about?” wondered Wolverine.
“Uh, okay, okay, no, hold on…okay I know, okay, we were talking about, um…okay, no, no, we were talking about how we liked our plan so far but we needed something else to bring it together.”
“Right! Okay, that’s right. Right, so, okay, let’s figure this out. What…what are we gonna do here?”
“Um…I don’t know…” replied Spiderman.
“Dude,” whined Wolverine, “I am so drained…I should probably get some sleep…let’s do some more meth to get the ol’ creative juices flowin’.”
“Sounds like a plan!” agreed Spiderman, and our boys spent the next three minutes getting their speed on.
First, Spiderman crushed up like 20 crystal meth crystals (or glasses, as he calls them) and he made, like, one giant, amazing line of powder that snaked back and forth across the whole coffee table. Wolverine started at one end and Spiderman took up the other and when they met in the middle there was kind of an awkward moment. But then Spiderman busted out his crack pipe and he put some crystal meth in that and then smoked it. And then Spiderman loaded up some meth for Wolverine and then Wolverine smoked that. Then they did some hot rails. And then they both mainlined some meth and it got them really high. Then they smoked some bong bowls and Spiderman decided to bump some coke, and Wolverine had a line and Spiderman was trying to get him to do some more but Wolverine was like,
“Nah, I’m good.”
After our heroes had gotten sufficiently wacked out, they got back to completing the planning stage of what was later dubbed “Operation Poo Poo Magoo.”
“Okay, allright,” rapped Spiderman, “So shit, basically what we’re needing here is, like, something that will just tap into Mr. Crazy’s brain and shake it up and go ‘Hey Mr. Crazy…yo, check this out,’ right?”
“Right, so, so, it’s definitely like gotta be…” paused Wolverine, “…it’s gotta be colorful. But not too colorful.”
“Okay, right, so, also, it’s gotta be, like, unexpected…and, it has to be cool…and hip!” added Spiderman.
“Yeah, cause Mr. Crazy, man, he’s crazy, but he ain’t no trender, so our hook is gonna have to be unique,” said Wolverine, “And it’s gonna have to be really…emo.”
“Okay, so we know what we’re going for here...now we just have to think…think, Wolverine, think!”
The dudes sat there for like 5 minutes in total silence, just kind of shifting around in their seats as their minds went to work. After all hope seemed lost, Wolverine jumped up from the sofa and exclaimed,
“Eureka!” Wolverine accidentally bumped his knee really hard on the coffee table but he was too pumped up to care.
“What?! What?!” asked Spiderman inquisitively.
“Okay, check this out, okay? The thing which we need in this plan…to bring this plan together…the one thing that will put Mr. Crazy right where we want him…” said Wolverine excitedly, “Is the Play-Doh Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop.”
“What?” asked Spiderman, perplexed.
“It’s all so simple!” smiled Wolverine, who spent a few moments cracking his back before he continued on. “The chopstick thing was good; I think we should still use that. But this; this is way better. Okay, so this whole time, we’ve been thinking about how to make Mr. Crazy want to play with his own poop, right? Okay, actually I forget what that had to do with anything, but at this point it doesn’t matter. Okay, so basically Mr. Crazy sees the Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop and gets really excited, right? In kind of a sexual way? Okay, so…imagine, if you will, Mr. Crazy loading up a little crazy plastic guy with his own feces. But this is no ordinary little plastic guy; this little plastic guy has holes in his head. Okay, so, like I said, Mr. Crazy is all excited, and he takes the little plastic dude and smashes him down, and, okay, so, out of his head is supposed to come orange Play-Doh or something, right? Okay but now imagine the joy on Mr. Crazy’s face as he smashes the little plastic guy down and this thing's head begins to sprout, like, a million little poopy hair worms instead! And then, okay, this is the best part, while Mr. Crazy is sitting there giggling at the little poop worms, we’ll walk up and shoot him the head. Okay, and then I guess we’ll fill his skull cavity up with Play-Doh in an ironic twist or something.”
Spiderman was stunned. He simply stared at Wolverine in awe, only regaining his composure, like, 30 seconds later. During this whole time, Wolverine was standing in the one-hand-out “Tada!” pose.
“Wolverine, man…” began Spiderman, “You sir…are a fucking genius! Gimme five!” And with that Wolverine gave Spiderman a high five but it was kind of sloppy so Wolverine was like,
“Hey that sucked; let’s try it again!” and that’s exactly what happened, this time with better results. As the sound of a nice healthy hand-slap reverberated through Spiderman’s apartment, both heroes felt as is a great burden had been lifted off of their shoulders. What they didn’t know was that feeling was actually God rubbing their backs. “Okay, so did you write that down?” asked Wolverine.
“Oh shit, no, okay, hold on. Okay, um…f…u…z…z…y…p…u…m…p…e…r…b…a…r…b…e…r…s…h…o…p. Okay, I think our plan is just about complete.”
“Right on, man….why don’t you read back what we’ve got so far,” suggested Wolverine.
“Okay, here’s what we’ve got: Poop. Chopsticks. Bowl. Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop.”
“Nice, nice…okay, so, well we should probably go to Toys ‘R’ Us and buy that Play-Doh Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop before it gets too late. Are you good to swing?”
“Yeah man, I’m totally cool,” assured Spiderman.
“Well, I think we knew that already,” winked Wolverine. They both had a good laugh at that one.