Jack

Your results:
You are JACK JACK 100% JACK 75% JACK 67% JACK 65% JACK 65% JACK 63% JACK 60% JACK 60% Clancy 55% JACK 53% JACK 50% You are an idiot, lazy,
and you love toast
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I'm Jack. I was born in the shadow of the valley of death, and I can't go under water because i can't hold my breath. The year was 1667, the land was torn with strife and civil war. My parents, Sammy Cahn and Helen Parker, raised me as a dog in a small cage in the yard. I escaped one day, at the age of 7 and founded a national school for underprivileged and mistreated children. 14 hours daily the children worked in the fields for no pay. I soon became rich and founded more schools across the nation, kept in the capable hands of rich exploitative types. I later returned to my parents home and locked them both in a cage and donated them to London Zoo, which, may I add, I also founded. As I milled about the upper echelons of high society, I soon found myself longing for a young beautiful bride. I began to court the daughter of Sir Edmund of Canterbury, who was a wanker as his wife had died and he no longer got any. Having married the girl, I soon tired of her and sought new, younger maidens, with whom I could wet my soldier. However, it wasn't long before my exploits became renowned and people started to shun me and speak badly of me behind my back. Suddenly I found myself clutching at majestic wrought iron straws as I was tossed unceremoniously through the gates of my large estate in Sussex. Upon my dishonourabe discharge, I became a wild man, foraging for berries and nuts and living off the english scrub. I was a mere shadow of my former self. Whilst in this state of homelessnes, I came across many interesting characters, not least of all was Hal, a friendly squirrel man, living in the riverbank accross the way from me. Hal taught me the wonders of the white-spotted mushroom, and the marvels of the poppy seed and the visions they induced. My addictions grew and grew until I felt more dependant on the plants than I was on food and water. From what I can remember, and the stories I have heard, I formed an island colony, comprising of twigs, leaves, mud, small stones, insects of various shapes and sizes, larger stones, stones - larger still, pieces of refuse, arachnids, clay, branches, mystical creatures, simon, paper pulp, bits of plastic and tin, thrown away by careless humans, rubber, keep left signs, abandoned shopping trolleys, bits of concrete rubble, wire fencing, computers, car stereos, expensive jewellery, nuclear waste, money, stockbrokers, pens and pencils, pencil sharpeners with which to sharpern the pencils, nail clippers, chair and old newspapers. Upon realising I had been employed as an office clerk, I panicked and my thoughts instantly turned to promotion. The stress of this brown nosing soon became apparent as I began to break out into painful boughts and onslaughts of mouth ulcers. The attacks became so bad as to be paralysing and I would spend weeks lying on my living room floor, waiting for the pain to abate. As soon as I was fit, I made an appointment to see Dr. Barnaby, BMus, an old family friend and trusted physician. When he saw my cripplingly ulcerated mouth, he burst into song, singing aloud a lament of my suffering. I tried my best to soothe him, but to no avail and he soon collapsed exhausted on the floor, unable to draw the curtains, which were throwing a painful midday sun onto his sensitive skin. He blistered up almost instantaneously, his skin bubbling and popping in painful swells wherever his skin was bared to the foul light. It was then that I realised his true nature, it all clicked into place. The aversion to religious symbols, his fear of garlic, the fangs, the cape, the way he would spontaneously transform into a bat. He was just another halucination. When I looked about me with fresh unbiased eyes in the light of understanding, I saw that I was still residing in the woods as a wild man, surrounded by tourists, taking photographs. The line between reality and dream had become so blurred during my narcotic neverland that I discovered from a cheap tabloid newspaper that, to my shame, I had been dating Kate Moss, and was now a C Class celebrity in a really crappy band, as a really crappy singer. Oh I passed myself down on my knees, and wept, silently, into my morning Scotch, which had been provided by a friendly homeless antelope, working part time in a local pub as a serving maid. I went to the local bank and took out a loan, which I swiftly gambled away on illegal insect baiting. A pair of Preying Mantises would be put in a small ring with a selection of armorments including needles, pebbles and small pieces of cloth, screws, insect repellant, bulldog clips, paper clips, magnets and penlids. "Tintins Crotch", which was the mantis i had bet on, soon got the upper hand by thrusting a penlid into "Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes" his worthy opponent. Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes Countered with his well known move, Chlamydia Kick, which caused Tintin's Crotch to burst into a painful bout of uncontrolled urination. Having regained his wits, Tintin's Crotch lunged forward and tagged his partner, "Snowy's Sex Flaps" who quickly pounced on Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes holding him down reaching the referees count of two before Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes managed to twist his way out of the Snowy's Sex Flaps patented "Sex Hold". Then, in one swift move, Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes threw Snowy's Sex Flaps to the ground and simultaneously grabbed the aforementioned needle. Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes lofted it above his head and plunged it down into and through Snowy's Sex Flaps' leg, pinning Snowy's Sex Flaps to the ring floor. Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes walked slowly around the ring, taunting and jeering at Tintins Crotch, who was helpless at the ringside, making the crowd roar with delight. Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes turned to give one last spiteful look at Snowy's Sex Flaps, reached down and picked up the Insect Repellant. The crowd gasped and fell silent in awe. As he approached Snowy's Sex Flaps, he shook the cannister with a hateful grin upon his face. As Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes leaned in to smite the restrained Snowy's Sex Flaps, Snowy's Sex Flaps grinned and winked in a cocky manner at Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes. At that precise moment, Lee Harvey Oswald, armed with a rifle, stood up from the crowd and shot Peter Piper's Peck of Pickled Prostitutes in the back of the head, killing him instantly. As the rest of the crowd screamed in terror, i jumped with glee, as I had just won a bet of all my savings at a thousand to one odds, thus making me a millionaire once again. Upon realising how ancient I had become, I fell dead. Here began my afterlife. To be continued.