Rastlin'

Don't forget to suggest topics for Olaf to rant about!



Yesterday, I got into a big wrestling match with Phil the Conceited. It all started when he threw a rock at the back of my second-best helmet. If you read yesterday's post, then you know that my BEST helmet got sold on eBay, by old Phil himself. I whipped around to glare at Phil. Phil pointed at Erik the Noisy, who was jabbering on his cell phone, with an expression that clearly read "He did it." I ignored both of them and continued beating on a clown. A few seconds later, I heard a whistling sound, turned, and got hit right in the face with a rock. Phil was still in his follow-through swing. Realizing I had seen him, Phil innocently pointed at Erik again. I picked up a rock and chucked it into Phil's gut.



"Hey, Erik threw it, not me!" Phil exclaimed.



"I saw you throw it, you freakin' liar!" I yelled back.



Phil held up his hands in mock surrender. I turned back to the clown and continued smacking him around. Two seconds later, a rock hit me in the back. It stung. Bad.

I whipped around, dropping the clown. "STOP THROWING ROCKS AT ME!" I screamed.

"I'm not!" Phil yelled back.

Pulling a few more rocks off the ground, I started running at him, chucking rocks as I ran. "you LIE!" I screamed.

Phil picked up a few more rocks as well and started throwing rocks back at me as well. Soon, I had chased him a good hundred yards away from the rest of the crew. I turned and began to walk back to find another clown to beat. Next thing I knew, Phil had jumped on me from behind and started pushing me to the ground.

"Oh, we wrestling now?" I calmly asked as my face got pushed into some dirt.

"Ya THINK?" Phil yelled in an uncommon show of good sarcasm.

Soon, the entire crew was gathered around us, ignoring the few clowns that were running for their lives who had survived the crew's deadly attack. I humored Phil, allowing him to throw me ever whichway he pleased. For whatever reason, his amnosity toward me was pretty deadly, so I was content to let him wrestle me until his anger was gone.

Members of the crew, who had all seen me and Phil wrestle before, soon noticed I was falling asleep or just chillin' while Phil struggled to turn me somewhere he wanted. Gregory the Hairy, tired of watching the wrestling match not getting anywhere, yelled "Olaf, give 'im a wedgie!"

"Aw, but that's cheap!" I cried.

"So? He'll quit when you give him good one!" Gregory called back.

"Naw..." I stoically refused. Suddenly, the next thing I knew, Phil's hand had found my boxers and were pulling them as hard as he could. Luckily for me, I had worn my kick-butt, red, plaid, anti-wedgie boxers that day. Unluckily for him, he had no such underpants.

Figuring that if he was going to result to cheap stuff, I resulted to cheap stuff as well. Grabbing his boxers, I pulled a good deal harder than he did, but that was mainly because he can't pull as hard me. A loud RIIIIIPPP! was heard, and Phil started yelling "Aw, no dude, stop! That's gay! I like these boxers! That's really gay! Aw, dude!" I ignored the hypocrite and continued pulling. Laughter amongst our crewmates was heard.

"HAW HAW! Yeah, Olaf, that's the only pair of underwear he has!" Someone yelled.

"Wait, I only have one pair of boxers..." Another person said.

Everyone got quiet. Suddenly, the Omar the Bold stepped onto the deck of the Bloodhound and rang the luch bell.

Dingle dingle!

Every Viking bolted for the ship, leaving Phil and I behind. I was hungry as well, so I shook Phil off and ran for the ship as well.

Around the dinner table, everyone got into an argument with Phil, as he was loudly talking about how "Olaf wedgied first." Little did he know I spit in his sandwich...

We're cool now, in case you were wondering. And no, he doesn't know bout the spitting.

Olaf the BAAAAALD!