Moxie Pistachio and the Case of the Diamond Doodle Dog

[Philip K Dick]

Congratulations! Moxie Pistachio is the best detective in the world... starring Jeff Goldblum as the best detective. Moxie flew all the way around the world in an aero-plane specially designed to carry our protagonist himself. The world needs a hero. That hero is... Moxie Pistachio ~ the best man detective in THE world!
   The streets of Paris were filled to the brim with tacos. Enchilada salesmen adorned every corner, and the pungent smell of burritos filled Moxie's nostrils with the smell of burritos. Yeah! He walked up to the local liar and tipped a nickel into his hat.
   
"Where can I find Bistro Bozman?" said the detectiveman.

The whole schappy schnoodle ka-ka exploded in a flash of blinding fuck forever. Moxie was blinded temporarily and as he struggled to make his way through the surging crowd he felt something groping at his cajones.

"Shirley?" he whined, sensitive to heat.

Shirley was Moxie's spouse. Opening his eyes at last, Moxie found that his pubes were being stroked tenderly by his sexy fiancé who was wearing sexy lingerie. Then he plowed her.

It was all a dream.

The

[Daveb0t]

end

[trent bortknob]

lmo

[ZekeySpaceyLizard]

[Fuzz]

A+

[retrosmash]

A++!

[DrRumack]

two thumbs up

[Philip K Dick]

Moxie Whatever and the Case of the Stolen Porpoise!!!

   Wassup!
   
   Taking no tentative liberties was Moxie (I forget his last name)'s primary objective. He creeped around a corner and observed the pistachio (oh yeah) farm from afar. In the faint distance he could make out (with his sister, no less) the faint figure of Bistro Bozman, head operations chief of bad business and the government's number #1 most wanted eco-terrorist. Moxie stood silent in the shade. His horn-rimmed glasses faintly flickered in the dim moonlight.
   This case was not much unlike any other attaché case you would find lying on the sidewalk filled to the brim with $100 bills. Choking down the last slug and realizing that the peanut farm (or whatever) was a dead end, Moxie stood silent in the dead of the moonlit shadowfuck.
   Bistro wasn't making a deal. Bistro was MAKING the deal. He was so swift with his corporeality that he didn't even stop to consider the subtle masochism that lay in the shadow of the pale moonlight.
   

   Moxie Pistachio and the case of my rumpus

   "Stop!" screeched the guard as Moxie came to a dead halt. Fumbling for his machete, Moxie reached inside his inner jacket and masturbated 12 times before finally extracting the dogged specimen. Moscoat (the "s" is silent) Berger, Zombie Anthrax Antichrist of his day attacked Mxie with the speed of one thousand cannon balls multiplied by Jesus.
   I guess a simpler way of saying that would be if you took infinity, divided it by the square root of Ghostbusters, then killed yourself. And what a day it was.
   Back at the ranch, Shirley had been calling Moxie's number every five or so minutes, apparently unawares of his current status. Breasts (this was originally a sentence describing Shirley's occupation and how it related to something or other).
   "Absorb delicious pretzels!"

[creamcorn]

Yo!

[trent bortknob]

two more installments in the suspenseful moxie series