The Great Undercover American Balloon Escape

Our Friends!!!

For years we have been lost in the bush with escape from the Dictator Mustardo and for this we have not been able to tell you of our greatest most trying adventure yet:  Our Great Undercover American Balloon Escape. It is now that we dictate for you.

Inevitably, after many months of travel the Dictator and his Army of US Truth cornered us in the mountains of Apalacha. In starvation we were forced to eat the young orphan boy.

In our grief and dedication to the memory of the Poor Orphan Boy we decide not yet to re-grow mustache.

After almost giving up hopes of escape, we hear tell of hot air balloon in New City of Durham and know that we must travel from the Apalacha to the New City for to try and leave on the hot air balloon.  But  The Army of US Truth were onto us, and as Beefhogistanians we are staunch NONVIOLENTS.  So we had no choice but to find mentor of American way for that we better our disguises as Americans and eventually find hot-air balloon.  Needless to say, we sought the home of legendary Sir Cooter, master of American way:

Sir Cooter welcomed us into his home, and spoke for many hours on important American dialect and custom, such as “Whip them Out Wednesday” and “Hello, I’m Frank Stacio”

He took us under his wing and worked very hard for to re-disguise us as True Americans.  We use poop-corn, whiskey, Joan Jett tee, Beef tee, firework, and tape of Bryce Springstone.

From here we traveled undetected to the Great Durham City and pass time with Cooter.  His assistant, DL Anderson, take brilliant documentation of our new American ways.  There was only one American custom that we could not uphold: we cannot come to be violent.  We are non-violent.

Cooter finally bring us to hot air balloon man, and he allow us to escape in his only hot air balloon; for this we owe him our lives.  In this picture, taken from a satellite in the Great Outer Space, you see the balloon and basket floating mid-air in front of a bird flying candidly past.  Unfortunately you cannot see my brother because he is hidden behind Quizno due to crippling fear of birds.

We now write from top secret safe location.  Our balloon stays tied ready for escape, and we ask that you, great American comrades, to remember that peace will prevail and violence is never the question.

Also please remember In Beefhogistanian there is no words for “Terrible,” “Boyfriend,” or “Poop.”

To Freedom!

Labiaski!

The Great Challenge

It is great hardful time to speak of the results of our last record of time.  Schlotzky’s captivating blizka journal detailed our travels so well and with so many telling pictures that the infamous dictator of Beefhogistan, Sr. Mustardo, discovered the records and sent for to find us here in the United States of America because they need more information on our parents, the Bolitzkas.  It was told to us that our parents, in attempts to relocate us in the cockfighting ring, incited many riots dressed as chicken in the small villages outside of Beefhogistan.

We were incarcerated in our homeland and forced to speak of our childhoods to the dictator himselve, only to eat the cusp of potato for many many months.

We were forced to shave our moustache and our glasses were crushed under the boot of the oppressive Mustardo.  We finally escaped, using plan from Alcatraz, and on our way to the sea we encounter young orphan menstrual fiddle boy.  We rescue young orphan boy, and take him back to America.

We were afeared for many months, but we now seek exile in this free and caring country.  For this we exersize bravely our freedom of speech, and we are slowly growing back our moustaches and work hard in this beautiful democratic land of capitol for to afford more glasses.

We have included the young orphan boy in our work for to afford glasses, which is seminar on the innerworkings of the Beefhogistanian maraca, or mayonasa as we call it.  We cannot disclose the location, as we do all undercover.

To Freedom.

Labiaski!

It is true for the American Song: Amazing Grace

For that we have been lost but now to be found!  My brother and have been woke up today by great revalation.  We have been sleeping for two months!  Let me tell story with all seriousness.

After sea anenome discovery and encounter with Cpt. Roy G. Biv, my brother Quizno embarks on search for me, searching for long lost sister Panini.  When, like great Monty Python movie, into Cpt. Roy G. Biv I run!

We discover new land together, which we name little Hogiestan and hoist flag to claim land like great American founding fathers.

I am missing bread and butter of life, Quizno and Panini, and leave Cpt. to writing poetry in new land.  What next happens is but magical sauce of life. While looking for work, I find Quizno in grape vine field with job as scarecrow!

Scarecrow is very good job, but we must find sister Panini before it is too late.  We try to hitchhike, as seen in the hollywood, but cars pass too quickly by to see shining Hogiestan leg complexion.

After much walking look!  We find our Panini!  She is in usual drunk state modeling for outdoor magazine.  We ask local friend on mountain to take family photo.

Now as that we are reunited we have local mountain friend take family photo, like young times together again!  We try to coerce Panini to follow great dream of country travel, but she clings to bottle like woman to mustache as they say at home.

Together we move east for next big adventure.  We plan for great community and to find Panini a husband!

roy g biv makes memory

roy g biv makes memory

luff at first sight!

quizno is worlds best scarecrow!

hold hands for to find our sister

the american locals do not pick us up today

Malvinschnoff!!!!

Panini models on hill for line dance agency

for finally! family portrait!!

Panini and Quizno find the view

We have Upheld The Anemone Part of the Mission

Here we have found anemone!  It was hard, as my brother Schlotzky is beginning mission for to find sister Panini.   I will catch up with him in the sunrise, but for now, I meet up with blind cripple sea guide, Captain Roy G Biv for to find sea anemone.

 

It is with much gusto that cripple blind man lead me to the beautiful anemone, and to the rock that over face all.  

 

On the tip of the stick of life we balance little muppet orange peel. 

Todays poem as told by the Captian Roy G Biv with translating help from Quizno:

Go forth my my beloved citricy muppet

Accept your fate

To be eaten by the fish

Or consumed by the forboding ocean

This is the apex of our relationship

Where we part

So be free

If you should reach the orient, 

Tell them of the precious metals and stones you have seen on these lands

Tell them of what you have seen here

Tell them 

We have been eating

We are strong 

We are ready 

With the invention of the ice chest we now have means to preserve our meats and lettuces and thus the energy to defeat you

Tell them

We are ready

We shall crush them  with love

A Freedom Poem

I have little time in world to greet fish in sea
Some school swim left and some swim to true luff
I pump up the jamz with pod of I and escape big city lights
LI LI LI LI LI LI LIGHTS

Music and poetry will meet in head with small dove.
Also with small dove, Vladimir Puten will raise only bar set for justice.
I know this be true.  We met –  each other – I was ten and he thirty.

With small dove flying out of lion rib cage – I have found new cheers:
Face the morning!  With no pants!

Panini is Alive!

Rejoice! We receive information about our sister, Panini, through comment from new friend!

You read comment at end of blog to see for what I speak.

It is with new found energy and happy I prepare to rescue my brother, Schlotzky, from his prison.  From there we will travel North to finaly reunite with our lost sister.

Tonight I embark with flipper and goggle to Alkatraz!

For Labiaski or To Die

To for be loved

That is the greatest escape

For with the hour of the froth of the dolphin

We swim from as if enwombed

And from the stratified depths of our souls

we find peace with floatation devices

and freedom

Look for me on the horizon.  I will be in disguise:

No pants on island

My brother! It has been seffen hours since i have pants.  I am lucky to have big john as friend.  He have pants big enough for the both of us.  And he smuggle in great american invention, iphone, so for to I am able to try to reach you, Quizno!  I have been contained in this ribcage of cold american lion for what?  For to honor silly law that make sense only in winter.  I am no balizka, and will neffer, neffer, neffer be treated like!

some of the other prisoners

My prison

Let me tell you, brother, how to get to prision.  It is on island in the middle of cold ocean where young boys swim to be men sometime.  I find picture in small prison meeting place for to help you find.  We must plan break!  We will plan in the form of song and poetry, so as to be secret from the others that are not one of us.  Write with poem to inform me of position of escape!

I haff learned true secret, one secret that frighten me into hurry.  We are but two that seek Panini.  She plan great things in the north.  She wear coat of many colors.  Let us be swift, now brother.  I must go now to find pants. I leave you with this poem.

“She sing but caged”

The camera that see you, smack you first.
This is way that prisoner is held.
Snap like American Slim Jim.  Flash like American city lights.

Look out on horizon I see BOATS swift in NIGHT
They, like boys that become men in water,
to MEET puberty with head on high.

WHERE? is true love?

labiaski! My brother! labiaski!
yours,
Schlotzky

Justice for Schlotzky

Tonight find me devastated, as my only brother has been thrown in American prison for to he forget his pants when he go to find newspaper.  I now protest for justice for him, is in Beefhogistan it is not crime for to wear no pants.  We are separated for until  I find a way to escape him from this unjust confinement.  Schlotzky, if you reading, I love you always and I will neffer neffer neffer give up the fight for true justice of you and our family.

Quizno

The poem of Sorrow:

For to who may read of the bird that has left the window sill of my heart

The bird has flown to the corners of the sea

For with which to follow begin my search

For my brother, my sister, my one true love

I weep among deserts for to bury the stones

And to see the night fall on the ribcage of inustice

Inside which awaits my brother, my friend

We must fight for what is true

And real

And scented like the tulip

For to win is to know one another

To truth is to bind

goodnight my comrades, though night of sorrow ’tis.

The Big City! (and We have found one of us).

We have arrived to the big city!!!!

Quizno blend in with local American

Schlotzy enjoy the town…

Also, we have met one of us.  He say he is not American spy.  We do not believe him.  Could it be true love?  We will see…

Our journal from this endeavor:

1-25-09:

We have been heartbroken.  The American spy did not return our salutations.  We retreat from plan of action.  But we NEFFER retreat from our search for true love.  Signed,

Quizno and Schlotzky

1-25-09

True love has come.  He is the form of 28F. We must keep incommunicado.  He is one of us.  Do not neffer neffer neffer retreat.

Quizno hold the message to the beautiful American spy:

1-25-09

We have been ended.  True love does not exist.  We will neffer, neffer, neffer love again.

1-25-09

We love again.  If only for to meet once more while we are in the big city.

Yours,

Quizno and Schlotsky