Rick Perry 4 Prez (cont.)^3

 

 

Rick Perry 4 Prez (cont.) (cont.)

 

 

 

 

 

Rick Perry 4 Prez (cont.)

Rick Perry 4 Prez

 

Mr. Shark has a hangover.

Sorry, no advice today….Just had a KILLER night in Vegas and I’m wayyyy too hungover for that shit.

Ugh, my hotel REEKS of stale blood. There’s gotta be a hundred seal carcasses in here, I can’t even make it to the bathroom without tripping over a dismembered leg.

I swear one of the strippers I ate must have been drugged because I’ve never gotten this out of control before.  What was the name of that place again? “Leave it to Beavers?” I blew so much cash there, dude. I must have shoved twenty fish heads down June Cleavage’s g-string, and she didn’t even seem to appreciate it. I guess it was a little degrading when I made her balance that red ball on her nose while I screamed “perform for me seal!” But she’s a stripper. If she wants respect she should go back to that college she’s pretending to pay her way through.

Seriously though, they’re never going to let me stay at the Venetian again.  The concierge told me they had to completely drain the canals last night. And that even after a thorough scrubbing, the sides of the gondolas still have a pinkish stain from “the night when the waters ran red with blood.”  I don’t know what I was thinking. For some reason romantic gondola rides always give me a craving for fresh hearts.  

It also doesn’t help that Sergei – whose half-eaten corpse is currently crammed into the mini-fridge – was one of their most requested gondoliers.  Looking at him I can understand why.  You can still see a glimmer of warmth in his now dead eyes, and the smile frozen on his lifeless face really lights up a room.  I might have his leftovers for breakfast if I can stomach it.  I remember him tasting like kindness.

Ugh, maybe not though, I’ve already eaten so many empty calories already. Nature’s deadliest killing machine?  More like nature’s fattest killing machine. I feel more bloated than a body that’s washed up on shore. I mean, I was so wasted I didn’t even realize those people at Madame Tussauds were made of wax. I ate the entire N’Sync display. Totes not looking forward to shitting out Lance Bass’s acrylic hair for the next week.

Just thinking about it makes me want to vom all over again.  I need to get some hair of the dog up in this piece.  I hope there’s an animal shelter on the way home.

Later bitches,

Mr. Shark

Mr. Shark offers his advice to a steam punk enthusiast

Dear Mr. Shark,

I'm jumping head long into this steam punk thing and I need some advice. What kind of hat should I buy? 

Thanks, 

Maurice E.

Portland, OR

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Dear Maurice,

Good to hear from you again.  I see you are making great strides since our last chat. Apparently steam punk obsession is second only to LARPing in it's ability to attract human women.  

As for your hat, I recommend the old stand-by, the seal-head hat.  I wore one to my last steam punk meeting and everyone was both delighted and befuddled.

Making the hat is quite simple.  First, you'll need to find an appropriate seal, one with a symmetrical, round head-shape is ideal. Once you have found your target, you'll need to dive down at least one nautical mile beneath it.  Then, gather up all the strength you have and swim full-force at a 90 degree angle towards the seal.  If you get the angle right, you will easily be able to remove the head of the seal with a clean cut. Be careful once you've made the bite not to sever the spinal cord though. You'll need that later.  

After you've secured your head, you'll need to gather a few pieces of decor to give it that classic Victorian-industrial steam punk aesthetic. I've eaten several divers over the past few days, so you'll easily be able find everything you need by foraging though my poo. Plus, the mixture of my stomach acids and the ocean's salt water has added a nice aged patina to the metal parts. A mask bitten in half, for example, makes the perfect retro-futuristic monocle, and adding a regulator to your seal's mouth gives it bit of ironic whimsy.  I also recently swallowed an analog computer, so if you'd like, you can use some of it's gears and assorted parts for extra flair.

Voila, you now have the perfect steam punk hat. Just place it on your head, tie the spinal cord around your chin and prepare to be the belle of the steam punk ball.

Love,
Mr. Shark

Mr. Shark offers his advice to an aging Forrest

Dear Mr. Shark,

I'm almost 30 and don't have a wife or kids.  Should I just shoot myself, or what?

Forrest B.

Los Angeles, CA

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Dear Mr. Forrest, 

First of all, gross.  What is wrong with you? By your age I’d already sired 12 tiny murderers, 3 of which I’ve already murdered myself.  Also, I gave advice about this in yesterday’s post, so I really don’t understand why you haven’t been able to impregnate a female by now.

That being said, unless you are dangling off the edge of a boat, I don’t think shooting yourself is the best idea.  I think you should end your life in a more meaningful way.

Sacrifice yourself to the ocean gods. 

I read about it in this book of ancient wisdom once. It said that ocean god sacrifice volunteers were revered as heroes because their sacrifice rid their human villages of plague, hunger and terrifying Willem Dafoes. I don’t remember their name, but it was some obscure tribe that doesn’t have a Wikipedia page or any other evidence proving their existence, so don’t bother looking them up. 

I’ll just tell you what to do.  First, you’ll need to make your skin nice and slick by shaving all the hair off your body.  Be thorough, the ocean gods hate stubble.  Next, you’ll begin a process the ancients referred to as “marinating.” To do this, you’ll need to soak in a tub full of seal blood, fish heads, and sesame seeds (adds a bit of teriyaki flavor) for at least 3 days. 

When you’re ready to enter the ocean, walk out to at least neck-deep water. You can bring a surfboard or water wings for fun if you want.  Once you are submerged, make sure to clap, bark, or balance a red ball on your nose so the ocean gods know what to look for. They have millions of rows of razor sharp teeth, so when you feel them sinking into your torso or leg, you know they’ve found you, and that your generous sacrifice will soon be complete, and your village, saved. 

But please make sure you do this before your 30^th birthday. Ocean gods don’t like old meat that’s all nasty and tough.  

Love, 

Mr. Shark

Do you have a burning question that only a swimming death machine can answer?  Submit it now to mrsharkadvice@gmail.com.