The Search For Burk Uzzle In Far Off Lands

This tale takes place in the city of Barce-Lyona, which is on the border of both Spain and France. The people and places in this tale are fictional, they don’t exist. They are roles played by actors. Not everything you read in this article is true, and not everything is false. Look for plagiarized song lyrics, too.

Cast Of Characters:Cast Of Characters:
The French Connection
The Vegan Anti-Hippie Hippy
The Verge of MelTdown
The Burk Uzzle
The Practicing Christian
The Bi-Polar Teenager
The Flegend
The BuTcher
The Scarecrow
The P-Whipped Ins Tigator
The Golden Locks
The Married SluT
The Mexi-Fiance
SkeletorThe Married Slut tied the knot with The Vegan Anti-Hippie Hippy over ten years ago, and they were now on a jet plane to the distant Barce-Lyona in the no-man’s land between Spain and France, in sorta the taint or chode of Europe, to meet up with a group of people who were searching for one of life’s great personalities, Burk Uzzle (more on him later). The group of people was wide-ranging in personality, and each had their special talent that would come in handy on the epic search. On their way there, they stopped by Paris to do a little research on the last sighting of Mr. Uzzle. After a short train ride, they arrived. This was in April of 2005, and the wind was stirring up real hard bursts that made it hard to walk or skateboard in the northern part of Barce-Lyona where we began our search. There was a certain chill in the air as we attempted to get our accommodations situated. There were problems with The Butcher’s hotel room, and The Bi-Polar Teenager and he had to walk in the rain to a different hotel, splitting us up for the night. We did meet as a group for the first time at a cheesy Italian restaurant where the food came in a giant chaotic pile on your plate-a food Armageddon or culinary Jihad, if you will.

After a night of cold, hard snoxberry locator-cuff, we woke up to a day of freezing wind and icy rain. This would put a damper on our search for the legend, Burk Uzzle. We enlisted the help of a tour guide, a famous ex-video artist named The French Connection. He signed up his friend and sometime employer, The Flegend, to help as well. These two guys took us in a big white van to some serious spots where Burk Uzzle may be found. At these spots everyone found clues leading to Burk Uzzle, even The Vegan Anti-Hippie Hippy! You can see these clues printed amongst these words in photographic form (and probably later in video form). We also visited the long dead Andy Warhol to search for tidbits of fame behind factory seconds packaged as “the Ultimate Collection”-I think not! Outside, we saw the security guard tossing a wild-eyed greaser right onto the pavement-he was scanned into the bright light, maxing the pixels to glow.The Bi-Polar Teenager had episodes of a TV show called The Family Guy on his traveling flat-screen movie theater, so we watched them to relax our brains for the night, eating snacks from a health-food store to fight off the commercial withdrawals. Where are the commercials? The TV did have commercials of naked women writhing in water under the guise of skin cream in the middle of blanket coverage of The Pope dying. Yes, The Pope died. Who was The Pope you ask? He was an agent of evil against the seekers of Burk Uzzle. He was a man who thought he was doing good, bless his heart, but really ended up doing bad, helping spread AIDS in Africa and keeping our society from moving forward on practical issues that we’re faced with these days. A man who was a Hitler Youth in his childhood replaced him. This man will be leading millions of people with what he says-be cautious! Burk Uzzle is watching from a distance, and you never know when he will turn up. You better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone …At a street gap where we scoured for a sign of Burk Uzzle, we could not find a single trace of him. He was busy punching the air with his fists and eating se poor kid’s snacks from the stray bag, or so we imagined …

We played “spin the bottle” or was it “truth or dare”? I think it was a mixture of both. When the bottle pointed to you, you had to choose either truth or dare. If you picked “truth,” then the truth you must tell; and if you picked “dare,” then you had to take the dare. The Practicing Christian chose dare and had to go and make friends with a stranger for at least a minute, keeping the conversation going, and he did this with great success! The French Connection chose truth and had to tell the story of his single caterpillar of hair lying over his eyes.

The next part of our trip was a journey. We had to embark on a great train escapade from the far north of Barce-Lyona to the far south. The train was not a straight shot. Problems arose. Perhaps none other than Satan himself put a curse on our travels. Who else would want us to fail in finding Burk Uzzle? Who else would be disappointed to see us prospering in our endeavors on this earth with clear vision of where we were going? The only other people I can think of would be B.A. Baracus and his friend Hannibal. The train spit us out in a strange area, and we were told lie after lie on how to find our way. Lies into the night! We had to camp out in this eerie place for the evening. We found a very haunted mansion, and you may wonder why I say “very” haunted. Well, just plain haunted would be when there’s a ghost or two lurking about in a big house. This is quite normal if you believe in souls. The poor souls get trapped in between heaven and earth. They never get trapped between hell and earth; the devil just lets anyone in! These people get caught and spend their time “haunting” a place. This place was very haunted because of its close proximity to the train station, and every room had at least two or three ghosts, both girl and boy, both young and old. You could see them pass through walls and right through your very person as you lay in bed listening to the wind bang the shutters against the faáade. A lazy cat named Miguel sometimes rode a ghost downstairs to his food bowl. We walked about this unknown place and in the unexpected adventure found a profound clue in our quest for Burk Uzzle.

Finally in the south! We found an almost-dead bird and chopped its head off to end its misery. We were being merciful, and The Butcher is a merciful saint. The P-Whipped Instigator said a prayer for the bird and then bought an entire bag of penis-shaped water balloons to use later that night. Skeletor rolled up the windows after releasing a whiff of breakfast burrito from his anus. The Scarecrow was getting many clues and helping us get closer and closer to the elusive Burk Uzzle. You can see these clues to the side of these words no doubt. The Scarecrow was showing us that he had what it took to get the job done, and he was doing it like a man. The ground was covered in secret traps disguised as seeds from a tree. If your wheel hit one, you were stopped cold and pitched to your bummingness. The Practicing Christian swerved through them and launched a hurricane Scud-missile attack on a sleepy embankment, unlocking a new level toward our goals.

Back at our new apartments, The P-Whipped instigator, The Scarecrow, and The Bi-Polar Teenager filled the penis-shaped balloons with water until they resembled beach balls instead of schlongs. They dropped them out the second-story window onto passing cars in hopes of shocking Burk Uzzle out of retirement. The P-Whipped Instigator even went so far as to leave early in the morning without even attempting to find Burk Uzzle and ended up finding rare and awesome clues to his existence that can only be seen in moving video form in an upcoming skate-shoe video-tainment feature … sneaky bastard! The police were on our trail now that we were a step closer to finding Burk Uzzle. They questioned the three balloon droppers, but they somehow evaded prison. That is the special talent of The P-Whipped Instigator.

The Butcher found a person to spend the night with outside of the group, The Mexi-Fiancà‡e. They would meet us every morning after a night of certain physical exertion and then engage in the search for Burk Uzzle. We imagined that Burk Uzzle was out in the wee hours of night spending time with women of ill repute, but we found no clues to suggest that this was true. The caveman waiter came to our table and asked us in broken English if we wanted some Bronto-burgers. We opted to go vegetarian. We got word from The Butcher that Burk Uzzle was sighted eating a rabbit stew. We had to jump into action! Our day took us far outside of Barce-Lyona, and The Bi-Polar Teenager encountered his first major mood swing and had a nuclear-reactor meltdown, breaking his equipment and sitting in the car with violent thoughts; The Golden Locks, The Scarecrow, and even The Verge of Meltdown got to search for clues outside the city. A couple more choice clues were found-are you looking at them? We met a few men who we had seen before, also searching for their own Burk Uzzle. One was from Cairo, one was from BBSacto, and one was from MarC-Jo-all three gave us new inspiration to search on.

We were told that past a big department store and a short walk down a lane would reveal a new spot for clues: a wide-open expanse of green grass with a white line and set of stairs to walk upon, plus a downhill ride to a marvelous paved hill with boxes of cement on top and a giant metal pyramid that channeled energy from the lesser gods, making the spot holy and somewhat sacred. We searched all over these places. The Golden Locks went down in search of a clue and damaged his old soul in the process. The rain came, and I said, “Hey, buddy, the street is a snakeskin!” I belong out there walking where no one will come and bother me.

The next day we were driving around, crisscrossing the mega-suburbs looking for both food and, of course, new clues. Suddenly, on the side of the road we spied a monster clue. So long and slender, and at the top of so many stairs it looked like a Mayan ruin on the Yucatan Peninsula. The Practicing Christian jumped from our moving vehicle and scaled to the top. The Butcher and The P-Whipped Instigator followed with support. The Practicing Christian jumped to the top of the metallic skinny clue and scraped all the way down to where the car was waiting for a fast escape with our exclusive clue. His faith in himself brought him down safely, and from here on out we called him The Faithful Christian. Even Buddha smiled! We then retired to a food court in a mall where one could buy any sort of mutilated carcass for his or her dining pleasure. The rabbits were no longer cute, and the goats kept their eyes open until they were gouged out and eaten. Even the fish sat still atop the frozen water they swam in.

Finally we ended our search at a cemetery. We went inside, and we gravely read the stones-all those people, all those lives, where are they now? A crack addict asked us for a cigarette, and The Scarecrow made promises that he kept. Burk Uzzle did finally show up, if only shortly, but that meant that our search was over for this time. We found the spots and the clues we were after. That is why we left our houses in the first place, to find something new, something only we could find. We found it in a book of photographs named Burk Uzzle. It was a sort of inspiration like the very book of photographs you are holding right now. Each person needs to go out and find their own Burk Uzzle or be destined to live out their life pushing little buttons and pulling little knobs.e P-Whipped Instigator.

The Butcher found a person to spend the night with outside of the group, The Mexi-Fiancà‡e. They would meet us every morning after a night of certain physical exertion and then engage in the search for Burk Uzzle. We imagined that Burk Uzzle was out in the wee hours of night spending time with women of ill repute, but we found no clues to suggest that this was true. The caveman waiter came to our table and asked us in broken English if we wanted some Bronto-burgers. We opted to go vegetarian. We got word from The Butcher that Burk Uzzle was sighted eating a rabbit stew. We had to jump into action! Our day took us far outside of Barce-Lyona, and The Bi-Polar Teenager encountered his first major mood swing and had a nuclear-reactor meltdown, breaking his equipment and sitting in the car with violent thoughts; The Golden Locks, The Scarecrow, and even The Verge of Meltdown got to search for clues outside the city. A couple more choice clues were found-are you looking at them? We met a few men who we had seen before, also searching for their own Burk Uzzle. One was from Cairo, one was from BBSacto, and one was from MarC-Jo-all three gave us new inspiration to search on.

We were told that past a big department store and a short walk down a lane would reveal a new spot for clues: a wide-open expanse of green grass with a white line and set of stairs to walk upon, plus a downhill ride to a marvelous paved hill with boxes of cement on top and a giant metal pyramid that channeled energy from the lesser gods, making the spot holy and somewhat sacred. We searched all over these places. The Golden Locks went down in search of a clue and damaged his old soul in the process. The rain came, and I said, “Hey, buddy, the street is a snakeskin!” I belong out there walking where no one will come and bother me.

The next day we were driving around, crisscrossing the mega-suburbs looking for both food and, of course, new clues. Suddenly, on the side of the road we spied a monster clue. So long and slender, and at the top of so many stairs it looked like a Mayan ruin on the Yucatan Peninsula. The Practicing Christian jumped from our moving vehicle and scaled to the top. The Butcher and The P-Whipped Instigator followed with support. The Practicing Christian jumped to the top of the metallic skinny clue and scraped all the way down to where the car was waiting for a fast escape with our exclusive clue. His faith in himself brought him down safely, and from here on out we called him The Faithful Christian. Even Buddha smiled! We then retired to a food court in a mall where one could buy any sort of mutilated carcass for his or her dining pleasure. The rabbits were no longer cute, and the goats kept their eyes open until they were gouged out and eaten. Even the fish sat still atop the frozen water they swam in.

Finally we ended our search at a cemetery. We went inside, and we gravely read the stones-all those people, all those lives, where are they now? A crack addict asked us for a cigarette, and The Scarecrow made promises that he kept. Burk Uzzle did finally show up, if only shortly, but that meant that our search was over for this time. We found the spots and the clues we were after. That is why we left our houses in the first place, to find something new, something only we could find. We found it in a book of photographs named Burk Uzzle. It was a sort of inspiration like the very book of photographs you are holding right now. Each person needs to go out and find their own Burk Uzzle or be destined to live out their life pushing little buttons and pulling little knobs.