S p e2 t0 e 1 m8 b e r The Ac c ur s e d Mount e b a n k s mont hly
Greetings, and welcome to the first i ssue of this (now) monthly comedy zine. I’ll will b e your guide through the ups and downs, trials and tri bulations and Mikes and Ikes of THE ACCURSED MOUNTEBANK S! Oh, by the way, we have WAY too many Mike and Ikes around this piece. We went to the Dollar Tree with si xty bucks and walked out with nothing but Mike a nd Ikes. It was...ill advised.
I wanted to bathe in Mike and Ikes. I thought, you know, the round nature of the candy would feel cool all over my nude body. But, it wasn’t as fun as I thought. First of all, I got tired of emptying
out the Mike and Ikes boxes about thirty in. It. Was. Not. Worth. It. So, right now, we’ve got thirty boxes of Mike and Ikes and a quarter-full trash bag full of loose Mike and Ikes and some pubic hair. Just because I gave up on emptying the boxes doesn’t mean I didn’t TRY it. I mean, I went to all the trouble and paid sixty bucks. Sixty bucks is sixty bucks! Do you
realize what I had to do for sixty bucks? It wasn’t much. But it was more than I’d have to do for thirty dollars. That’s how numbers work, after all. Thirty is less than sixty, but more than five. Geez. I didn’t know we were going to have to start off teaching basic math right in the first issue. What’s one plus one? If you said “two,” you were right. However, keep in mind, I can’t actually hear you. So, if you said, “two,” you
understand math, but not how the written word works. Wait, are you that character from that Sandra Bullock movie? You know, the one with Rocket Raccoon and Sandman? Where she thinks that soap opera guy is a real person, and travels all across the country? I think she was a crossword puzzle editor in that. I might be wrong. All Sandra Bullock movies look the same to me. That does NOT make me racist! Holy...wait a second, how did I just now hear you call me a racist? Do I not understand how the written word works? Have I been able to hear you this entire time, but you just haven’t been saying things? Let’s try this. On the count of three, tell me your name. 1. 2. 3. Bastion! You said your name was Bastion! Wow, this is creepy! Let’s try another one. My whole life, I’ve been referred to as The Humormeister, but lately, people have stopped believing in me, and I’ve grown sick. But, if you give me a name, my health will be restored and the land of comedy will come back from the giant wolf monster that’s been running all over the goddamned place like a crazed asshole. So, on the count of three, give me a name. 1. 2. 3. Moonchild? What the hell kind of stupid name is that? Your mom’s name? Your mom is a hippy? Oof magoof. Sorry to hear that Bastion.
Needless to say, I’m not taking the name Moonchild. *cough* *cough* Man, I am SOOOOO sick. I think I’m dying. It’s almost as if I...wait a second! I know what’s wrong with me! I’ve been doing Keto, but with no dairy (I know, I know, what, exactly, do I eat? Lots of vegetables, mostly). But, yesterday, I was yawning on the street, and this guy just poured a bunch of milk down my throat! That must be why I’m so sick today! It has nothing to do with people not believing in me and everything to do with that weird guy and
and his milk. Okay, Bastion, just chill. You’re talking a mile a minute, I can barely make any of it out. Where was I? I was on McDaniel, sitting at one of the tables in front of Sliders. What’s that? Why did he have milk? I don’t know, man. He just did. It’s downtown. Weird shit happens there. What’s that? I keep saying “what’s that” and then repeating the thing you just said like a Bob Newhart bit? Can’t argue with that. I mean, I guess I COULD argue with that, but I don’t think it would go over very well, because I’d be wrong. Oh, spoiler
alert for the end of this issue. Bob Newhart is going to wake up and this issue was his dream the whole time. He’s still married to Suzanne Pleshette. Wait! I think I just thought of a name for myself! Larry Darylanddaryl! Hmm...no. That’s too complicated. I think I’ll just stick with Humormeister for now. It’s simple, to the point, and--wait. Did you hear that? MO O !! m o o Oh, no! My arch nemesis, Dairy Cow, is comin’ ‘round the mountain! Comin’ ‘round the mountain. Comin’ ‘round the mountain. Dairy Cow is comin’ ‘round the mountain. Dairy Cow will be comin’ ‘round the mountain when she comes! And I better get the hell out of here before she makes me suck on her teets.
It’s my one weakness, you see. I think we covered this before. Remember, the whole “poured milk down my throat” thing? Let’s just get into our first feature: Dr. Herschel Batman, M.D.
Ho l a .S o ye lDo c t o r He r s h e lBa t ma n ,M. D . I ’ mh e r et oa n s we r y o u rme d i c a l q u e s t i o n s . De r e kf r o mWa s h i n g t o na s k s :“ If e l ll a s t we e ka n ds t i l lh a v e n ’ t b e e na b l et og e tu p . C a ny o up l e a s es e n d h e l p ? ” Dr .He r s h e l Ba t ma n , M. D .h e l p s t h o s et h a t h e l pt h e ms e l v e s .
S o . . . n o .
Informative as it was funny. Class, please thank Mr. Batman for taking time out of his busy schedule to come out and talking to you about such an important topic. Okay, for our next lesson, take out your history books and turn to page 59...huh huh, “59.” ‘Cause, it’s like 69, but ten less. What do you mean, “That’s an inappropriate joke to tell to a class of students?” What do you mean, “That’s why our parents are always coming down here to talk to the principal?” Yes, I ALSO think it’s weird I still have a job. No, it’s not because I make those kind of
jokes in front of a class of children. It’s more because you children are imaginary, so it’s weird ANY school district is paying me to teach you.
Ha! No witty rejoinders once I pointed out you’re fake, huh? The Humormeister: 1. Imaginary children: 0! That’s the score, kids! Huh, huh. “Score.” See, THAT’S exactly the kind of joke I can tell for a group of imaginary children whose parents have jack squat authority over what I do and say! See, “score,” in
some parlences, can mean “to have sex.” So, it’s funny that I said score there. It’s what we, in the business, call a ‘double entendre.’ And, when we do, we pronounce that second word “on-tond.” Because we took a semester of French in comedy school and want. To. Show. That. Shit. Off. French class in comedy school was hard. Mostly because of all the Jerry Lewis we had to slam back-to-back. That dude was never funny. I have no idea what my grandma and French people are talking about. Even when he had Dean Martin, objectively the funniest of the Rat Pack, he sucked it up from the top of the globe, down to the bottom. Huh, huh. “Bottom” also means “butt.” And ‘turd’ means ‘poop.’ That one is just a community service announcement. I, honestly, wasn’t sure how many people know that, as no one says ‘turd’ any more. Which is a shame. Turd is a very versatile word. My brother is a little turd. When I mess up, I can yell turd in front of my grandparents without upsetting them. ...That’s it. Those are the two uses of turd, other than the poop thing. I might have over-sold turd’s multiusefulness. Something I can’t over sell: How good music is. Did you know, this rag you’re holding isn’t just a comedy magazine? We also like music up in this bisch! Load up your streaming app of choice and get these next songs playing. You’re going to be happy you did!
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k n l a i r n/ aF h I t t e r ' s A -A t
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F e e n lt a C h I eF / i r r e-R e d o o C o y n R n i o w r G s l i eW v E T h e e r e P h o p W p y w / o o F o a N bW d/ m r i i i e l y S i , i ) S ( J e / s s r n u a i s / r e e o u t nr s v -B th y I M O o ' c mG C r e k s t s n d a e o r
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a u lP e k a M e n a a n l o o f C o r / C a n t a
That’s a nice soul you have.
It would be a shame if someone should eat it.
Well, gentle reader, that is the end of our gentle publication for this month. Please, stop crying. We didn’t spring for the best paper when printing this thing off. Your tears will destroy this issue and THEN where will we be? In the middle of the desert, that’s where! Oh, did I forget to mention that I cut Gwyneth Paltrow’s head off and had it mailed out here? I...I’m SURE I mentioned that. It’s in my dating profile. Right under “Not here for a hook-up. If you don’t love dogs,swipe left.” I have a question. We drove all the way out here together in silence. What, exactly, did you THINK was going to happen when I got out here? I mean, if you drive out to the middle of the desert and Gwyneth Paltrow’s head DOESN’T get mailed to you, honey, I don’t know what you’re doing with your life. Well...I, the Humormeister, am out of here. Visit patreon.com/dougdrieseljr to support the publication and get ALL SORTS of comedy content, from stand-up to podcasts to any random stupid thing that comes along. I love you, everyone. Unless you’re Gwyneth Paltrow. Then, I’m going to cut off your head again. By the way, Gwyneth Paltrow is a hydra.