Brett - an unbelievable profile
I arranged an interview with Brett for his profile in this book.
I prepared for the interview, based on my recollection that we had a friendly verbal agreement for service fees of $100 per hour for the time I was to spend on Brett's behalf as his publicity agent. I arrived at the interview and pleasantly requested an advance on the fees for the 4 hours of work I would I had spent in preparation, the 1 hour of the interview, and the 6 hours of transcription and composition. Brett immediately and angrily proclaimed the agreement a hoax, accused me of extortion, and refused to speak further.
Eager to bring our business to a close, I recommended that If he would simply pay for my services thus far, we could part ways on gentleman's terms. Brett became violently angry and issued an intricate arranged barrage of obscures profanities. Fortunatly, I happened to have on my person a blade that I sometimes carry. In fear of my safety, I relieved the air from his car tires. As I raced away, Brett produced a military assault weapon from the trunk of his car and fired a barrage of bullets after me, cursing in multiple languages.
Of course, I was grateful to be alive. The interview was unsuccessful. However, I have done a significant body of research on the mysterious figure of Brett. For the benefit of you, dear reader, I will here expound on his elusive story. Please note that I in doing so, I bring grave danger upon myself and my family.
Brett was fathered as part of an elaborate and secret cultic ritual performed by an untraceable Satanist group in the Bolivian jungle in the early seventies. While details of the ritual are difficult to ascertain, it is known to have involved seven heads of cattle, the blood of nineteen virgins, a box of plastic spoons, and a giraffe. Witnesses from the small Bolivian towns and villages reported the sky turning black, and the voice of damnation filling the air with a cryptic, incomprehensible language. he prominent scientist and investigative journalist, Dr. Miles Ofbeeis, journeyed to the site to investigate claims of intergalactic criminal participation by a ruffian group of green haired flesh devouring cyborg mutants. The disemboweled corpse of Dr. Ofbeeis was discovered in the back seat of a Pinto several months later.
Brett was raised by a group of militant Mormon Tanzanian terrorists. His given name was "Gumajala" which translates to "harbinger of madness". His morals and values were taught to him by recorded messages during his sleep.
Brett immigrated to the united states in 1984, entering Colorado at the age of 12. he and several other cult members planned and executed what he still refers to as the "hey na na party of '87". The group hijacked a school bus returning from a flower show and filed off the children's' toenails with rusty nails. While no ransom demand was ever made, the operation came under the radar of a local paramilitary counter terrorist task force, who quickly diffused the situation with a liberal application of projectile explosives. None of the children, or Brett's companions, survived the inferno. To avoid unnecessary questions, the task force quickly evacuated the scene. Brett crawled from the smoldering ashes, badly burned and incapable of any future sexual activity.
Living on a diet of rats and human feces, Brett recuperated in a cave of Colorado's sewage system. Chemical and cold exposure soon turned his scarred skin to a texture resembling a lizard. When Brett emerged, he decided to come to California to see the coast. Being an enthusiastic conservative republican, he set his sights to Orange County.
I first met Brett at a local Wednesday night church gathering where he had come for "some good fun and fellowship". He systematically assassinated half of the congregation using a crossbow and a welding torch. Many prisoners attempted escape, only to be caught in fishing nets at the exit doors and trampled to death by the screaming crowd. Near the end of the bloodbath, myself and a small group of others were set aside because he thought we "might look cute" when subjected to electric shocks torture. We were brought back to a studio in garden grove, where we hung from barbed shackles for four days, occasionally jolted with a cattle tazer.
One day, Brett came in and announced that he wanted to take up surfing. He asked if any of us could teach him. I volunteered. I was released from my bonds. The remainder of the group were slaughtered with a dull machette.
Brett started surfing at Huntington Beach over seven years ago. His left leg, being of cyborg construction, is not as agile as his right, so he can't turn, falls often, and looks like a complete kook...
Hold on...
The phone is ringing.
OK. I think the interview is back on. Uh... just kidding, folks.
I prepared for the interview, based on my recollection that we had a friendly verbal agreement for service fees of $100 per hour for the time I was to spend on Brett's behalf as his publicity agent. I arrived at the interview and pleasantly requested an advance on the fees for the 4 hours of work I would I had spent in preparation, the 1 hour of the interview, and the 6 hours of transcription and composition. Brett immediately and angrily proclaimed the agreement a hoax, accused me of extortion, and refused to speak further.
Eager to bring our business to a close, I recommended that If he would simply pay for my services thus far, we could part ways on gentleman's terms. Brett became violently angry and issued an intricate arranged barrage of obscures profanities. Fortunatly, I happened to have on my person a blade that I sometimes carry. In fear of my safety, I relieved the air from his car tires. As I raced away, Brett produced a military assault weapon from the trunk of his car and fired a barrage of bullets after me, cursing in multiple languages.
Of course, I was grateful to be alive. The interview was unsuccessful. However, I have done a significant body of research on the mysterious figure of Brett. For the benefit of you, dear reader, I will here expound on his elusive story. Please note that I in doing so, I bring grave danger upon myself and my family.
Brett was fathered as part of an elaborate and secret cultic ritual performed by an untraceable Satanist group in the Bolivian jungle in the early seventies. While details of the ritual are difficult to ascertain, it is known to have involved seven heads of cattle, the blood of nineteen virgins, a box of plastic spoons, and a giraffe. Witnesses from the small Bolivian towns and villages reported the sky turning black, and the voice of damnation filling the air with a cryptic, incomprehensible language. he prominent scientist and investigative journalist, Dr. Miles Ofbeeis, journeyed to the site to investigate claims of intergalactic criminal participation by a ruffian group of green haired flesh devouring cyborg mutants. The disemboweled corpse of Dr. Ofbeeis was discovered in the back seat of a Pinto several months later.
Brett was raised by a group of militant Mormon Tanzanian terrorists. His given name was "Gumajala" which translates to "harbinger of madness". His morals and values were taught to him by recorded messages during his sleep.
Brett immigrated to the united states in 1984, entering Colorado at the age of 12. he and several other cult members planned and executed what he still refers to as the "hey na na party of '87". The group hijacked a school bus returning from a flower show and filed off the children's' toenails with rusty nails. While no ransom demand was ever made, the operation came under the radar of a local paramilitary counter terrorist task force, who quickly diffused the situation with a liberal application of projectile explosives. None of the children, or Brett's companions, survived the inferno. To avoid unnecessary questions, the task force quickly evacuated the scene. Brett crawled from the smoldering ashes, badly burned and incapable of any future sexual activity.
Living on a diet of rats and human feces, Brett recuperated in a cave of Colorado's sewage system. Chemical and cold exposure soon turned his scarred skin to a texture resembling a lizard. When Brett emerged, he decided to come to California to see the coast. Being an enthusiastic conservative republican, he set his sights to Orange County.
I first met Brett at a local Wednesday night church gathering where he had come for "some good fun and fellowship". He systematically assassinated half of the congregation using a crossbow and a welding torch. Many prisoners attempted escape, only to be caught in fishing nets at the exit doors and trampled to death by the screaming crowd. Near the end of the bloodbath, myself and a small group of others were set aside because he thought we "might look cute" when subjected to electric shocks torture. We were brought back to a studio in garden grove, where we hung from barbed shackles for four days, occasionally jolted with a cattle tazer.
One day, Brett came in and announced that he wanted to take up surfing. He asked if any of us could teach him. I volunteered. I was released from my bonds. The remainder of the group were slaughtered with a dull machette.
Brett started surfing at Huntington Beach over seven years ago. His left leg, being of cyborg construction, is not as agile as his right, so he can't turn, falls often, and looks like a complete kook...
Hold on...
The phone is ringing.
OK. I think the interview is back on. Uh... just kidding, folks.
posted by travinator @ 1:59 PM
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