The Night According to Gladstone

We arrived at the house just after 8pm. I say we but I mean me. I was alone. I had my iPhone, though, and Facebook was up. I have 5000 friends on Facebook so really, I’m never alone. Did you know Facebook only lets you have 5000 friends? It’s true. I’d have more friends if they didn’t impose those limits. I’m that popular. I get poked so many times in a day, you don’t even know. I left Cracked a few months ago to become a baker. I love to bake. You should try my sticky buns. In an article that would be a joke about spooge all up my backside but this is serious. Anyway, I still keep in touch with the gang. I call them the gang because they do drive-bys. When I got there, Ian was already drunk. I mean, that’s no surprise, he’s always drunk. Once, at a company picnic, he shit his pants. I like to tell that story. Ian Fortey was a drunk who shit his pants, God rest his soul.

The Night According to Dan O'Brien

If there’s one thing I know, it’s talent and Ian Fortey had less talent in his whole body than my shit has in its shit. Like if my shit could shit, the shit shit, or shit squared or whatever, would be able to excel at all things Ian Fortey struggled with. And brother, that’s a lot of things. Yeah, we came to the party together, but I didn’t want to. I’m a senior writer at Cracked, do you know what that means? I have my intern do all my work and sign my name to it. It’s supposed to be in my contract that I don’t do anything I don’t want to. I was trying to pick up chicks with Peter Weller--it’s what I do on weekends--and out of nowhere Fortey shows up with a half bottle of Scope. I’m going to be honest, I don’t even think Scope is made with alcohol.

The burn is so delicious!

We agree to go to this Evening of Murder thing and Fortey tells Peter Weller he’s going to murder him good for making RoboCop 3 so godawful. Mr. Weller tells him that he wasn’t even in RoboCop 3 and Fortey tells him his mom was, then he literally laughed for the entire rest of the drive.  We're talking at least 15 minutes. By the time we arrived, the bottle of Scope was gone and he started hitting the Pabst that I brought. I brought that Pabst for everyone! Laughing boy drank it all except one that Peter Weller took.

The burn is less delicious!

He went to the bathroom for about and hour, I guess, and when he came back, just before Gladstone arrived with his goddamn iPhone and pretend friends, Ian came out of the can and wanted to drive to Taco Bell but I told him I didn’t have the keys. Peter Weller didn’t have the keys and Ian said he didn’t have the keys, so then he called me a “cock juggling turd burglar,” muttered something about Andy Dick and stumbled out of the room after making Swaim cry. Fucked if I know why, but when doesn’t Swaim cry? By the time we got around to the dinner he was just sitting alone in a corner with a pack of uncooked Ramen noodles talking to himself. After dinner is when I noticed he was missing and then Brockway found the body in the library. If you ask me, Brockway

The Night According to Robert Brockway

Did anyone else notice Scarlett Johansson at this party? She’s on the guest list but I didn’t see her anywhere. She's the only reason I even showed up, I hate these people.  I wore my skinny jeans, for fucks’s sake. Skinny jeans. They make my junk look enormous. And she’s not even here? God, no one tells me anything. I’m a fucking editor! Listen, I showed up just as dinner was starting. Ian was drunk and eating Ramen noodles but so what? I literally see him do that in the office at least three times a week. At first we tried to stop it because, you know, it’s unprofessional, but when we saw the quality of shit he writes when he’s sober we just let it slide. I mean seriously, he did this and this sober. We can’t have that. So Swaim was trying to sell me on a new concept for a video where he’s this French guy who’s not really French who gets trained to do the splits by a Japanese guy, and then he ends up in China fighting in a tournament and honestly, it was pretty clearly the plot of Bloodsport from the get go except the twist was he’d include funny YouTube clips.

I touched his weiner! NOOOOOOO!

Across the table from me, the guy who played RoboCop is eating desserts. Like he just skipped the actual meal and started in on a whole pie and a can of Pabst, which I don’t even know where he got, because I didn’t see any Pabst around here. So Robocop is just staring at me while he eats the pie and it’s like he’s challenging me. Have you ever seen a guy trying to pick up a girl he knows you like? And he gives you that look? That look that says, “Hey buddy, I’m going to put a finger in her butt later tonight.” That’s the look RoboCop had on his face and I didn’t like it one bit. I had to leave to get some air because, ask anyone, if you have to listen to Swaim for more than 10 minutes it takes a good year off your life anyway. That and the pie thing, plus my skinny jean issue, really made me regret showing up at all. So I went out on the patio out back to stroke my splendid beard, smoke a Cohiba and reassess my place in life. By the time I went back in I’d planned on just hopping on the computer in the library and looking up some pictures of topless chicks with guns. Instead I find Fortey sprawled out on the floor with a bloody chunk out of his head and a candlestick on the floor next to him. I admit that I laughed, just for a second, because I’ve never seen a Clue murder in real life. But it was just for a second.

The Night According to Michael Swaim

I got Cranium for my birthday literally a month ago and have been just dying for a chance to play. Like, my God. It’s probably the greatest party game I have ever played and I was so excited to play with Danny and Robby and that Jewish fellow who used to work here, I forget his name. And oh my God, Mr. Peter Weller, star of

The Night According to Scarlett Johansson

I wasn’t at any party. I don’t even know what Cracked.com is.

The Night According to Peter Weller

I know Dan O’Brien from rehab. We met there. He was a waste. A failure. His self loathing was unlike anything I’d ever seen and it made me laugh. I saw him try to hump some fetid produce in a dumpster once with a rage and intensity I've only ever seen in the eyes of the stark, raving mad. You could dare him to do literally anything, no matter how degrading or illegal, and he’d do it. And I loved it. I don’t usually laugh but Dan O’Brien, he can make me laugh. That night I wanted to laugh, so I called Dan and told him he should make me laugh. I was going to get him to dive punch the elderly in a park. That's where you run at a senior citizen and leap, with your fist extended, towards them. But this guy, this Ian Fortey, shows up out of nowhere with some shit headed idea to go to dinner and an Evening of Murder party. Fuck. I literally thought that. I just thought the word “fuck” and wished him gone. But my wishes haven’t been granted in a hell of a long time.

I rubbed it but all I got was herpes

I don’t even eat dinner. I eat dessert. I like pie and I will eat your pie and when I eat your pie, I want you to know that it’s your pie that I’m eating. And you’re not going to say shit about it, are you? The party sucked. And this Fortey guy never shuts up. Just never. Worse, he lips me about taking the car keys because he wants to go get a taco and he can’t find them. Listen, and this is important, you never lip me about your fucking car keys, you understand? Because if you do I swear to whatever deity you hold dear, I will bash your skull to meaty bits with a candlestick just like I did to Ian Fortey. Yeah, that’s right. RoboCop killed a bitch. RoboCop being Peter Weller and not Robert Brockway, who isn’t even sure he saw Ian Fortey that night and even if he did they were probably on opposite sides of… wait… nevermind. RoboCop did it. Yeah.