Faux Stories From Real Pictures

Aisha was a modern day woman who had everything going for her. She had a wonderful life with her husband, Günter, who was the heir to the extremely successful whoopee cushion company that his great-grandfather started in Bavaria, back in the late 1920’s (rumour had it that his famous ancestor had to flee Germany after placing one of his prototype cushions on the seat of a rather short tempered military officer who was famous for having only one testicle).

Aisha and Günter met at Oxford University, fell in love and quickly got married. Aisha could have settled down, living the life of luxury, spending the endless stream of whoopee cushion cash that was at her disposal. But again, she was a modern woman, destined to chart her own path, putting her education to good use.

Armed with a prestigious Master’s Degree in Literature from Oxford, and a strong sense of wanting to be inclusive, she earned not only a massive fortune on her own, but the respect of an entire forgotten community when she created a series of best selling erotica books specifically designed for the blind, that was scratch-and-sniff and written entirely in Braille. She was hailed as “the woman who gave fingers a workout.”

As if that weren’t enough, in what already seemed like a perfect life, Aisha and Günter were blessed with their son Kassim, an off the charts intelligent boy who was toilet trained almost at the same time he could walk. In fact, Aisha and Günter realized their son was toilet trained and walking when, in bed one night, they heard the toilet flush.

But, as fate would have it, it seems that those who have everything in life, and most importantly, are appreciative and deserving of it, are the very ones who have it snatched away. And that is why, while alone on a walk with Kassim, in their posh but quaint British community, fate dealt a cruel blow to Aisha. That is when Death walked up behind her, snatching her away from the toddler who would have to grow up without his Mother’s love. But being a genius with HSAM, Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory, he could never forget. HSAM allows people to remember what they did, what day of the week it was – oftentimes what they wore or ate – on nearly every day of their lives, which is why Kassim always hates Tuesdays.

So on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, Kassim lost his Mother, Günter would soon lose the will to laugh at the sound of a whoopee cushion, the visually impaired reached a climax in their world heralded erotica, and Aisha learned a little too late that you can eat too many pork rinds. Because Death sneaks up on you – when you least expect it.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

Aisha was a modern day woman who had everything going for her. She had a wonderful life with her husband, Günter, who was the heir to the extremely successful whoopee cushion company that his great-grandfather started in Bavaria, back in the late 1920’s (rumour had it that his famous ancestor had to flee Germany after placing one of his prototype cushions on the seat of a rather short tempered military officer who was famous for having only one testicle).

Aisha and Günter met at Oxford University, fell in love and quickly got married. Aisha could have settled down, living the life of luxury, spending the endless stream of whoopee cushion cash that was at her disposal. But again, she was a modern woman, destined to chart her own path, putting her education to good use.

Armed with a prestigious Master’s Degree in Literature from Oxford, and a strong sense of wanting to be inclusive, she earned not only a massive fortune on her own, but the respect of an entire forgotten community when she created a series of best selling erotica books specifically designed for the blind, that was scratch-and-sniff and written entirely in Braille. She was hailed as “the woman who gave fingers a workout.”

As if that weren’t enough, in what already seemed like a perfect life, Aisha and Günter were blessed with their son Kassim, an off the charts intelligent boy who was toilet trained almost at the same time he could walk. In fact, Aisha and Günter realized their son was toilet trained and walking when, in bed one night, they heard the toilet flush.

But, as fate would have it, it seems that those who have everything in life, and most importantly, are appreciative and deserving of it, are the very ones who have it snatched away. And that is why, while alone on a walk with Kassim, in their posh but quaint British community, fate dealt a cruel blow to Aisha. That is when Death walked up behind her, snatching her away from the toddler who would have to grow up without his Mother’s love. But being a genius with HSAM, Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory, he could never forget. HSAM allows people to remember what they did, what day of the week it was – oftentimes what they wore or ate – on nearly every day of their lives, which is why Kassim always hates Tuesdays.

So on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, Kassim lost his Mother, Günter would soon lose the will to laugh at the sound of a whoopee cushion, the visually impaired reached a climax in their world heralded erotica, and Aisha learned a little too late that you can eat too many pork rinds. Because Death sneaks up on you – when you least expect it.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

Ronald Drumpf has never seen the upside of success like his more famous second cousin Donald Trump has. While both branches of the genealogical tree have had long careers in real estate, the Trump name has been more synonymous with upscale ventures.

Ronald Drumpf, on the other hand didn’t seem to have the vision, ego, or more grandiose projects that his high profile relative is known for. The Drumpf name was on such unspectacular structures such as storage warehouses, military barracks and juvenile detention centers. Drumpf’s most ambitious project was the failed Drumpf Potty World Amusement Park where the most popular ride was a giant replica of a human colon. It failed in its first season. Besides the lack of patrons, bad publicity ensued when a 10-year-old boy was trapped for four hours inside a large sigmoid.

There was also no love lost between the two family factions. The schism began when one side chose to drop the ancestral spelling of their stoic last name for that of a common term used in pedestrian card games.

Ronald Drumpf had fallen on hard times. In addition to his failed businesses, he gambled heavily in the stock market and everything he invested in turned to lead (especially his large holdings in a lead-based paint company). His health declined and so did his actual house in a nondescript corner of Upstate New York, extremely close to the Canadian border, but not close enough to take advantage of Canadian health care.

In a moment of desperation, Ronald Drumpf reached out to his famous agnate magnate in the hopes of getting a hand up. Plus deep inside he always wanted to bury the hatchet and end the generational family feud.

Along with a lengthy letter, Drumpf sent pictures of his family house to Trump in the hopes that Donald would take mercy on Ronald and help him out financially. In the letter he even stressed how he had to walk five miles into town just to mail the letter.

Trump responded almost immediately. He dug deep into his pockets and sprung for a brand new mailbox in front of Drumpf’s house. So while Ronald Drumpf still lives in squalor he now has the best looking mailbox in his neighbourhood.

And as a bonus, like clockwork each month he finds discount coupons for Trump Steaks inside. Because that’s what family’s for!

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it!

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

He was a respected leader in his community. A winged warrior. A feathered friend. Sgt. Sidney Schlitz served his country admirably; he was a highly decorated flyer in the Air Force. From the time he hatched, Sgt. Schlitz was a beak ahead of all others, soaring to unimaginable heights. He never shied away from the difficult tasks in life, nor did he subject his men to dangers he wasn’t willing to take himself. His troops loved him for that. They admired his dedication and resolve.

It was his life of selfless acts and a love for his command that brought many out to honour him in death as he lay in repose, leading to what would be a well chronicled full military funeral; a fitting tribute to a hero of so many battles.

Once his service records officially become declassified, the history books will be filled with his daring exploits. The dive bombing raids on enemy combatants long before the use of drones, the reconnaissance missions in the mines and caves of far away lands, and his spectacular air battles with birds of a different feather from foreign fowl forces, just to name a few.

But the powers that be will try to downplay the manner in which Sgt. Schlitz died. It’s an embarrassing tale of hubris and bravado heard all too often in the military ranks. The refusal to believe that age, and all that goes with it, catches up to even the bravest military officers.

As the years passed, Sgt. Schlitz didn’t fly as high as he used to, or as fast. And despite mounting pressure for him to take a complete physical he was not the commander he once was. Complicating the issue was his failing eyesight. On his last mission, it ultimately led to his downfall.

In a midnight raid on a hot summer night in a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of enemy territory, Sgt. Schlitz flew too low to the ground. He didn’t see the long extension cord, he didn’t hear the whirring symphony, and he didn’t feel the breeze. But sadly, Sgt. Schlitz flew right into a Honeywell Oscillating Turbo Prop Cooling Unit.

But as what’s left of him now lies in state, and as those who reminisce of his triumphs and mourn his passing file by, thanks to redacted government records, few will ever know that Schlitz hit the fan.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it!

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

Have you ever wondered about the lonely sock you see in the gutter, on the street or in a field? What’s their story? Well, this is the lonely tale of Paddington Wentworth Sock III. He was a right sock, both literally and figuratively. His politics stressed small government, law and order, a deep religious faith and the status quo of generations.

His “sole” mate was Eunice Mona Sock, a left leaning bohemian atheist who danced to the rhythm of her own drum beat, espoused peace, love and the brotherhood of man and felt it was society’s duty to help those below their standing. But they were a match.

While a passion burned between Paddington and Eunice, their political differences often led to heated arguments. One such battle took place in the dryer. A fight brewed over which political candidate to support. As the dryer got hotter, they tumbled into a lint-filled abyss of animosity and distrust. When the cycle was over . . . Eunice was gone!

Paddington was distraught. Where did Eunice go? How did she vanish from a locked spinning metal cauldron of moisture removal? Was his biggest fear finally coming true? Deep in his gut Paddington always believed Eunice would leave him one day. She was too much of a free spirit to be tied down to such a heel.

But Paddington wasn’t giving up. He had invested his heart into the relationship. He was determined to find Eunice, literally searching high and low, from power lines and trees to gutters and highway medians.

He began seeing Eunice everywhere. Was that child in the playground wearing Eunice? Was that cat violently trying to maul Eunice? Was that teenage boy committing unspeakable acts with Eunice? Was that Grandma polishing flatware with Eunice? It all became too much for Paddington to handle.

Finally, he decided the only way to go was divine intervention. He turned to his faith, hoping his prayers for forgiveness would bring Eunice back. As devout as he was before, he had now become the most religious sock you ever saw. He was spotted daily at a shrine searching for salvation, one step at a time. This was his last hope, because he didn’t want to go back to his life before Eunice. It was just too dark. But, that’s a yarn for another day.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it!

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

Several storeys above the city Percival contemplated his next move. He was a cat with a conundrum, a frenzied feline. Was this how it was all going to end? What was it that literally brought him to the edge?

Percival the pampered pussy questioned whether there was more to life than staring at the humans who fed him as he plotted their demise. Sure he had all the cat toys and catnip he wanted, but deep down in his cat gut he knew there was more to life than chasing that mysterious beam of light around the house that seemed to come from one of his owner’s strange looking writing implements.

He acknowledged there was a whole existence beyond his ivory tower. He had seen other creatures in the wild fending for themselves, but he knew his life was better. From his perch he occasionally spotted a raccoon flummoxed by the latches of a recycling bin, witnessed birds battling over an errantly thrown French fry or a dog making a break for freedom only to literally reach the end of its rope. But still he wanted more. Peeing on his human’s pillows and carving his initials in the furniture just didn’t give him the same fanatical feline high that it did when he was a kitten. So here he was, Percival on the precipice in a kitty calamity, reciting words from The Clash, “should I stay or should I go?”

But then a moment of sober second thought washed over him. He was a cat. His humans kept telling him he had nine lives. No matter how painful the outcome of this rash decision was, it might have to be repeated eight more times. On the other hand, if he just stuck to the original plan and continued to torment his humans, maybe he could drive them out on this ledge. Suddenly a smile came over Percival. He knew what he had to do. The vertical view was spectacular, but it wasn’t going to be his final one. All he needed was to figure out how to work his human’s magic pen. If he could just find a way to get one of those idiot bipeds to chase the light beam toward the window . . . gravity would do the rest!

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

Gustav Gull was mournful. It had been awhile, but he was still reeling from the loss of the love of his life, Gretchen. Gretchen and Gustav used to soar great heights together. They met because they hung out at similar spots, and both had the same sense of humour.

Dive bombing outdoor diners at local fast food restaurants gave them hours of joy. Eating discarded fries kept them full. And after eating, high flying target practice on shiny new cars made them squawk with delight, especially when they came across leather-upholstered high end convertibles with the top down.

Messing with the heads of humans, both literally and figuratively, was what attracted Gustav to Gretchen. Her maniacal distaste for mankind was an aphrodisiac to him. Even now, in his rare happy moments, Gustav manages a smile when he remembers the time Gretchen snuck up behind a chubby Boy Scout in a canoe who was eating a giant ice cream sandwich.

She whizzed by his head so fast, ever-so-slightly grazing his ear; that the poor kid jumped three feet in the air. Unfortunately when he landed, he missed the boat entirely and had to be rescued by the Scout Master. Gustav warmly reminisced on how Gretchen almost spit up a worm, laughing so hard at the sight.

But that sense of humour was ultimately Gretchen’s undoing. It was last year, at the annual balloon festival, that Gretchen played her favourite and most dangerous prank. She used to buzz around the head of the balloon pilots, scaring their passengers.

Today Gustav thinks back at the horror of Gretchen’s unfortunate final misstep, when she flew between the gondola and balloon just for kicks, and met her untimely demise, being instantly flame broiled by a fiery blast.

Deep down inside Gustav knows Gretchen’s demise was her own undoing and there was no one else to blame. But still, he seethed with hatred in his grief and vowed one day to plot his revenge on the humans who dared hover in his airspace.

Gustav was a gull with a gripe; the original angry bird. “One day,” he said, “humans will pay. And that’s a promise. It’s not just hot air.”

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

“Hey, you . . . you, with the camera! What the hell are you looking at? Do I amuse you? Am I funny to you like a clown? Yeah, you probably heard a similar line from that runt of an actor Joe Pesci in that gangster flick. Well, he stole that line and the voice from me, but that’s a story for another day. Right now, I want to get back to YOU!

You just waltzed out here and snapped my picture, like some woodland paparazzi. Do you think I’m a cuddly creature like that flying cartoon squirrel who’s in an inappropriate relationship with a moose? By the way, I pitched the original story about a flying squirrel to the studios, without his big walking hat rack of a companion and they passed, but that’s a story for another day.

You don’t think I can hurt you? Typical human! You think just because I don’t have opposable thumbs I can’t take you on? Listen pal, me and others like me would have wiped the whole lot of you off the face of the earth if you hadn’t come up with door knobs. Well look around! Do you see any doors out here?

The problem with you people is you don’t know who to fear. You’re scared of birds. A tubby British guy even made a movie about them. That original screenplay was about squirrels. Some peon in a suit changed it, but that’s a story for another day.

Right now, you’re in my space. Look deep into my cold unblinking eyes. These are the eyes of someone who knows that if you take one step closer, I’LL KILL YOU!”

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it!

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

“George” (not his real name) was mired in a long spell of bad luck. This was not the future he mapped out for himself. He grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, so everything he did he worked extra hard for. And despite his past, he initially succeeded.

He was an “A” student growing up; valedictorian at the top of his class. He got into a prestigious business school and was fast tracked into the financial world of Wall Street. His future looked extremely bright.

But fate stepped in. He reluctantly became the brains of an elaborate financial accounting scheme that not only bilked money from widows and orphans, but threatened the collapse of the entire banking system. His devious financial mind caused the downturn of the economy and changed his trajectory forever. His conscience got the better of him. He couldn’t handle the pressure. He decided he had to come clean.

Turning state’s evidence meant that most of the powerful people he worked for would spend an eternity behind bars. But there were other, more nefarious business types, who eluded the law and swore they would get their revenge.

As irony would have it, George’s “talent” created an economy on the brink. Every governmental agency was forced to make drastic cutbacks to their budgets and programs. Even the Justice Department suffered. And that’s how George, who could never show his face in public again, became the most reluctant mascot, in a now scaled down witness protection program.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

Ludmilla Van Smoot was never an anarchist. On the contrary; she was a Young Republican and one of the Daughters of the American Revolution. She thought Dick Cheney was a left-wing pansy.

Her great-great-grandfather was Chester Van Smoot, who made his fortune mass producing leather subway straps for standing commuters. Her grandfather, Percival Van Smoot, quietly increased the family fortune by slightly altering the leather strap patent and selling a new variety to trendy overseas S&M clubs.

Ludmilla had all the trappings that the only child of Dickie and Muffy Van Smoot could ever hope for. Growing up she had three bedrooms in their spacious Southern mansion, and in each room, a pony. Life was idyllic.

But then it happened. Ludmilla hit puberty. With her growth spurt came the Van Smoot curse that had afflicted the family for generations. No amount of money, doctors, or plastic surgery could eradicate the hereditary strain of chronic acne that encased her face like crimson bubble wrap. As if that weren’t enough the scourge also travelled down her back to form an almost perfect depiction of the Orion Constellation.

She was conscious of her looks, never gathering with friends and staying in low light. It was a lonely existence, until she found Hector. Hector had no political affiliations. In fact he thought all government should be abolished.

Was Ludmilla really in love or was this just a passing fancy? She wasn’t sure. But she’d stay by Hector’s side, at least for now; or until her face cleared.

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.

.

Faux Stories From Real Pictures

It was an infatuation. He loved her from afar. He did everything he could to garner her attention. But she paid him no mind.

Still, that didn’t stop her from teasing him. She lay there, alluring and naked, but oblivious to his advances.

He didn’t want to give up. He thought they were birds of a feather. Mesmerized by her beauty, he never even noticed she had no feathers.

He tried to get on her good side with gifts. He brought her food. He rose at the crack of dawn to get her an early worm. Still . . . nothing! It was clear he wasn’t going to crack this egg.

His love turned to hate and he thought of forcing the issue. But cooler heads prevailed. Long before he left the nest, his mother taught him the proper respect for women. He learned that unless someone actually said “yes” the answer is “no,” so he backed off.

Oh, she was putting herself out there. But it wasn’t for him. She was a bird with her sights on a bigger prey. She was a gold-digger after a high strutting, loud rooster. Yes, she was a cock tease!

That’s the Stuph – the way I see it.