I know what you’re thinking. Maybe I got annoyed by something someone said. Maybe after two Super Bowls in a row I’m satiated on the Chiefs. Maybe I’m going to prison, or joining Dick Cheney on a barnstorming tour, or maybe the antifreeze actually wasn’t a good idea and I died.
The fun of a farewell forever thread is not in knowing the reason. It’s in not knowing, and the mystery behind the disappearance. MrBlond is legendary not because he was here or because he left, but rather because of how he departed. He was DB Cooper jumping out of the Chiefsplanet plane and disappearing into the night, and with that act he became immortal.
It is now my time to parachute from the plane, and I can assure you that I will not return. It would be enjoyable to become an unsolved Chiefsplanet mystery in the process, but I can’t do that to you. It’s cruel enough that you will no longer get to read my thoughtful prose and learn from my wisdom. I can’t allow you to speculate forever about what became of me, and to always wonder if that guy with the fake glasses and mustache sitting next to you at the game is me.
So I’ve instructed one Chiefsplanet member to reveal the mystery. If this thread ever reaches 1,000 posts, that person will share the reason. But until then, you will have only my boarding pass, a flight attendant’s vague description, and 110,871 posts to remember me by.
Farewell, Chiefsplanet!
(Sound of wind rushing past an open passenger cabin door.)
I want to say something before this whole thing gets out of control. In 1967, in the hot desert sun, a woman gave birth to a boy in the back of old pick up. She was a whore. She left the boy at a local church. The father at the church didn't like children, but he knew that being a disciple of the bible he couldn't possibly not take the small kid. Instead he ended up taking out his frustration on the boy. At the age of three, the boy was forced to use the toilet. Let me tell you the little fell into his own pile of poop more than once. By the age of 5, the boy the boy was reading the bible and chopping wood for the fire. Despite the father's harsh character, the boy loved him and thought of him as his true father. By the age of seven the father raped him three times. The boy ran away. He survived four days in the desert by eating cactus and scorpions. He was finally found by a drug cartel boss, who took the boy in. Mr. Sanchez was his name, and he was immediately impressed by the boys intelligence and grown up attitude. Mr. Sanchez provided the boy with an education at a private prep school and a nice house. The boy had sex for the first time when he was 12, the next year he graduated high school. He was the school's star running back. The boy was lost, although he liked Mr. Sanchez, he never thought of him as his father. The boy went to India, were he became a spiritual leader of a large tribe of farmers. With his power he turned the several plots that each tribe member had into a large corporate farm and became a millionaire. His assets grew as he bought into other successful start ups. He often got ahead in business with his great leadership abilities, but once in a while he used violence. This was India after all. By the time he was 22, the boy had all the money he would ever need. So he bought a yacht and traveled the world for 10 years. For 10 years he visited every major port, slept with girls from every country imaginable, and tried every drug ever made (by nature and by man). When he was 33, he was walking on a beach in French Guiana when he met a girl of Irish - Native American decent. She bared his seed. It was boy, perfect health. He moved them to Argentina, then London, and eventually Vermont. The man was 45 now, he has seen everything, accomplished everything, tried everything. He skied down the Swiss Alps, been at the North Pole, swam with hammerheads, everything! Yet he has never done one simple thing that we all take for granted every day, he met his father. He never played catch with his father, he never talked about women with his father. He never would. He died at the age of 63 when his parachute didn?t open when he was base jumping from Dagger Mountain in Washington, USA. Over three thousand people attended his funeral.
I know what you are thinking. How does this story relate to me? Well I want you to go all the way back to the beginning of the story and remember the woman who gave birth to this incredible boy. You are like this woman. You are like this women because you are a whore. And we are one post closer to 1000 [Reply]
Originally Posted by Tonka83:
I want to say something before this whole thing gets out of control. In 1967, in the hot desert sun, a woman gave birth to a boy in the back of old pick up. She was a whore. She left the boy at a local church. The father at the church didn't like children, but he knew that being a disciple of the bible he couldn't possibly not take the small kid. Instead he ended up taking out his frustration on the boy. At the age of three, the boy was forced to use the toilet. Let me tell you the little fell into his own pile of poop more than once. By the age of 5, the boy the boy was reading the bible and chopping wood for the fire. Despite the father's harsh character, the boy loved him and thought of him as his true father. By the age of seven the father raped him three times. The boy ran away. He survived four days in the desert by eating cactus and scorpions. He was finally found by a drug cartel boss, who took the boy in. Mr. Sanchez was his name, and he was immediately impressed by the boys intelligence and grown up attitude. Mr. Sanchez provided the boy with an education at a private prep school and a nice house. The boy had sex for the first time when he was 12, the next year he graduated high school. He was the school's star running back. The boy was lost, although he liked Mr. Sanchez, he never thought of him as his father. The boy went to India, were he became a spiritual leader of a large tribe of farmers. With his power he turned the several plots that each tribe member had into a large corporate farm and became a millionaire. His assets grew as he bought into other successful start ups. He often got ahead in business with his great leadership abilities, but once in a while he used violence. This was India after all. By the time he was 22, the boy had all the money he would ever need. So he bought a yacht and traveled the world for 10 years. For 10 years he visited every major port, slept with girls from every country imaginable, and tried every drug ever made (by nature and by man). When he was 33, he was walking on a beach in French Guiana when he met a girl of Irish - Native American decent. She bared his seed. It was boy, perfect health. He moved them to Argentina, then London, and eventually Vermont. The man was 45 now, he has seen everything, accomplished everything, tried everything. He skied down the Swiss Alps, been at the North Pole, swam with hammerheads, everything! Yet he has never done one simple thing that we all take for granted every day, he met his father. He never played catch with his father, he never talked about women with his father. He never would. He died at the age of 63 when his parachute didn?t open when he was base jumping from Dagger Mountain in Washington, USA. Over three thousand people attended his funeral.
I know what you are thinking. How does this story relate to me? Well I want you to go all the way back to the beginning of the story and remember the woman who gave birth to this incredible boy. You are like this woman. You are like this women because you are a whore. And we are one post closer to 1000
We would be like 8 posts closer if you had spread that out a bit. [Reply]
