Once upon a time, in a bass-ackwards far away land; and I mean
really bass-ackawards. This was a land where chefs had hair for eyes and threw their kitchen utensils about without regard for the safety of chickens and popstars like Robyn sorted their own recycling and where wild Volvos roamed free throughout the plains, killing at will. Needless to say, I'm talking about the distant Third World nation of Sweden,
but anyways. Once upon a time, in Sweden, the land was ruled by the wisest and most benevolent of all men; King Henrick Lundquist. One morning, King Lundquist awoke to a horrible shock as he went downstairs for breakfast and there were no Swedish meatballs on his breakfast plate.
King Henrick Lundquist demanded an answer from the royal Swedish meatball maker, the lovely Sweed. "I don't know what happened!" Sweed cried. "The secret recipe for Swedish meatballs was stolen in the night! Without it, I cannot make meatballs for you royal breakfast!"
Enraged, King Henrick Lundquist summoned his bravest knight. Sadly, he was drunk and not much use. He then summoned his strongest knight. He too was intoxicated beyond use. This continued through all of King Henrick Lundquist's knights until finally, he settled on Sir Carsomyr, a lowly knight from the remote Swedish village of Quirkville. For the record, Carsomyr was also drunk, but not to the point where he couldn't stand upright.
"Go forth!" decreed King Henrick Lundquist. "Go forth noble Carsomyr! Bring back to us the sacred royal Swedish meatball recipe! If you succeed, you shall be rewarded handsomely for your efforts.
"Um, okay." replied the knight. "For the record, what happens if I fail?"
"Should your venture be unsuccessful, you shall only receive a small 'Participation' trophy. And also, this fine wench of the kitchen known as Sweed shall be torn limb from limb by a pit of rabid Finnish lawyers." King Henrick Lundquist was clearly quite serious about getting his breakfast, so Carsomyr climbed on top of his noble steed, a 1989 powder blue Volvo, and rode from the castle.
As he rode, Carsomyr's buzz began to wear off and he realized the he didn't have the
slightest idea where to look, who to ask or anything remotely close to useful information related to who stole the royal Swedish meatball recipe. "Damn," he thought, "this was a lot easier when I was drunk." Knowing this to be true, Carsomyr stopped at a liquor store to pick up some moderately-priced Swedish beer for his trip.
As he walked in however, two guys; one in a Leafs jersey and one in a Texan flag, pulled a shotgun on the store clerk and demanded all the money in the register. "Help! Help! I'm allergic to dense metals and The Cleveland Show!" cried the store clerk. Carsomyr leaped into action, swatting the shotgun from the hands of the robbers and smothering both men with his beard hair until the police arrived.
"Thank you, brave citizen! I am forever in your debt." said the store clerk.
"It's nothing." Carsomyr said, all cool and stuff. "Listen, I wonder if you could help me." he asked.
"Oh, I see what your game is. Don't think you can pull a fast one on me, noble stranger." said the store clerk.
Carsomyr laughed. "You're funny, man. You wanna come with me on my quest to find the royal Swedish meatball recipe?"
The store clerk raised his hands to the air. "Hooray! I'm useful again!"
So they both climbed on top of Carsomyr's Volvo and continued down the road.
"So," began Carsomyr, "any idea who those guys were?"
"I'll ask the questions around here!" said the store clerk. "How did you know my name is Adam West? And why aren't we riding inside your vehicle?"
"Uh, well, I didn't know your name was Adam West and we're not inside because the inside of my Volvo is stuffed full of empty beer bottles." Carsomyr answered
"How very revolting." said Adam West, as he peeked over the edge of the Volvo, into the car.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to do something about that." said Carsomyr sheepishly.
"Your honesty touches me, citizen. In return, you shall know that the men who attacked me were simply mailing a letter containing a recipe card to Mexico."
'Aha!' thought Carsomyr as he explained the situation to Adam West and drove his Volvo to Mexico.
......From Sweden....
SHUT UP! It's my story!
Anyway, so they made it to Mexico. And everyone Carsomyr talked to was all like, "Hola!" and "Hola!" and "Hola!" until finally Carsomyr was all "Dammit! How the hell does everyone in this country know my name?!"
"Wait!" said Adam West. "That man will know."
Carsomyr's eyes followed Adam West's finger to a short blue-eyed Mexican. When asked about the recipe for royal Swedish meatballs, the blue-eyed Mexican replied,
"WellhowareyouguysdoingtodayIdsurelovetohelpyoufindthatrecipeforroyalswedishmeatballssothatthatkingofkingshenrickludquistcaneatsomebreakfastyouallknowthatbreakfastisthemostimportantmealofthedayatleastthatswhatitelleveryoneonmyradioshowthatsrobaceradioeverysaturdaynightontmfradiowherewevegotallthebestreadioshowsgameshowshotshowsbigshowsandeverykindofshowyoucanimaginewithfreegiveawaysforallnowbbacktoyouwiththestorymrsnail".
"I have no idea what he just said." said a puzzled Carsomyr.
"He told us that the recipe card has been moved to the villainous headquarters in Canada." Adam West told him. "He also said that we should be wary of evil Australian ninjas. They are deadly wif feathers."
Suddenly, as if only to add excitement to an otherwise boring-ass story, Carsomyr and Adam West were attacked by an Australian ninja!
Oh noez! The Australian ninja dove right at Carsomyr with her deadly feathers, but she was wrestled aside by Adam West.
"Go citizen!" shouted Adam West. "I'll hold off this Australian ninja! You must get to Canada to rescue my cat Bootsie from that tree she's stuck in!"
With a clear 'WTF?!' stuck in his head, Carsomyr once again packed up his Volvo and rode North while Adam West battled the evil Australian ninja.
***INTERMISSION*** (entertain yourself, dammit!)
Okay, so Carsomyr was in Canada now and staring in horror at the most terrible thing his virgin Swedish eyes had ever beheld: a poutine restaurant. He stood dumbfounded in awe and terror at the structure before him. "Who on earth would put that filth into their body?!" he said to himself.
As he said this, a thin man with mad scientist glasses walked out of the restaurant. In one hand, he held a fresh bowl of poutine. In the other, was the recipe for royal Swedish meatballs. His eyes met Carsomyr's as he stopped dead in his tracks. Carsomyr's awe and horror turned to anger and vengeance. "YOU!" he cried at the man in the glasses. "You're international bad egg, Dr. Snail! You've stolen the recipe for royal Swedish meatballs!"
"Indeed I have!" cackled Dr. Snail. "And you'll never get it back! With this, I shall rule the world with my evil plan so evil and brilliant, I haven't even begun to put any thought of any kind into it! And nobody can stop me! Not even you, Sir Carsomyr!"
"You'll never get away with it, Dr. Snail!" shouted Carsomyr.
And with that, they charged into battle against each other. They battled as if their lives depended on it. They battled all day and night. They battled on the land, in the sea and in the air. The battled until their muscled ached and their faces dripped with sweat. They battled for all freakin' eternity. Seriously, this was one hell of a battle. This was like ten pounds of battle in a five pound bag. This was.... yeah... all kinds of battle was going on.....
Yeah.......
Battle......
.....................
Okay, so they both realized that neither Sweden nor Canada has anything
close to resembling a military, so instead, they got drunk, sat their asses down, ate junk food and chatted idly about the situation while watching the hockey game. Ultimately, Dr. Snail agreed to give the recipe back if Carsomyr splurged on an order of crazy bread with the pizza.
And that was that.
Carsomyr returned home to Sweden and was hailed as a hero. He saved Sweed from the pit of rabid Finnish lawyers and was named Prince of Sweden. Sweed was so grateful that she and Carsomyr got down to tickling fun every night, which suited them both fine.
King Henrick Lundquist got his breakfast, albeit a week late.
Carsomyr proclaimed Adam West to be the mayor-for-life of Quirkville, under the watchful eye of Prime Minister Burt Ward and his evil Australian ninja bodyguard, who was deadly wif feathers.
Dr. Snail enjoyed his crazy bread.
The Leafs jersey guy and the Texan guy were gave up their lives of crime after they came to and sold popcorn at their respective sports stadiums.
And they all lived happily ever after...
until the locusts came.
TH'END
Happy birthday Carsomyr, you magnificent hairy bastard!
Snail Shell
So:
This probably sounds cheesy and all, but I think getting to know you was an early birthday present on my part... 
