Archive for Hells Aliens
Bean me up, Spotty
Posted by: | CommentsStaff flipping burgers at Slack D’s Fast food restaurant are flipping mad as mad cows. All because of the Hells Aliens Bovine Gang. “Once they start on the milkshakes you know there’s going to be a bit of bother.” moaned a new employee the Aliens have nicknamed Spotty.
“They call me Pizza Face to my face and I’m the manager.” said the angry manager.
Hallelujah, praise the Lard
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In the name of the Farthest, the Soonest and the Only Sauce. Ink ink.
The Lard moves in mysterious ways
The Probe can confirm that St.Ink is out of his dank crypt and preaching forgiveness. He wants everybody to forgive him, again!!
“I saw the light”. He said when the church roof collapsed. “Then I heard from above that my wealthy friend Andy A Hole was alive. Hallelujah I screamed, as I clambered over the rubble to the street above. At that moment, I reached out for the Lard with both hands while anointing myself with the Only Sauce. Inkstantly my dank days passed over and I swore, from this day forth, that it’s the land of milk and money for me, now and forever. Ink ink”.
May the Lard be with you
Milking Time
A Midnight Mass will take place around the remains of the Church of St.Ink. Now renamed as, ‘The Little Swollen Primordial Mound of St.Ink’. St.Ink prophesied that collection plates will be passed round at the mass. He also said, “Anybody with anything to give is welcome”.
sing along
The Hells Aliens Ride Out
Even before the dust had settled from the collapsing church. All but one of the Hells Aliens had made a bigger dust cloud behind them, as they hoofed it over to Slack D’s, the fastest food restaurant in Inksville. The leader of the gang, named as, ‘Mr Hardly Dangerous’. Was left behind, buried under the dust and rubble. When interviewed at Slack D’s by The Probe, about rescuing Mr Dangerous. The gang as one, fell off their bovines laughing in hysterics. Slapping the cows and each others behinds, one of them stopped, looked very serious and replied in a drunken slur, “They sell condensed milk Slack Do’s do don’t you know, you looking at my cow?”. Then a fight started between the Hells Aliens and their slapped maddened cows. The mad cows won.
R.I.P.
Hells Aliens go to church
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St.Ink’s sinful slide down to the dark-side continues to shock his congregation and all the decent hard working folk in Inksville.
The Probes exclusive on the downfall of St.Ink continues with reports of wild all night parties in the dank crypts of his church. He’s thrown the church doors wide open for all undesirables and that’s where the Hells Aliens came in. The crypts kitted out with a well stocked milk bar, pole dancing cows and gambling on the bovine racing syndicate. It looks as if the Hells Aliens are going to stay. At least until the money donated for the new roof runs out.
