Jack J. Jackson, Beer Delivery's page

{wakes from sleep mode} WHAT YEAR IS IT?!

He is... The Most Interesting Goblin in the Galaxy.

In Australia, a 24-pack carton of stubbies (375ml bottles) is known as a slab of beer (9 liters total). Aussie beer fans can buy refrigerators specially designed to be wide enough to have a special shelf into which you can just slide an entire slab.

All hail the griddlemaster. Hungry Jack® mixes and syrups are redefining the rules of breakfast. This is Saturday morning the way you want it—with a hearty meal that satisfies, topped with the only syrup in a microwaveable bottle* with an easy-pour cap that lets the sweetness flow.

{side-eyes any food a zombie is peddling suspiciously}

Aranna wrote:

Rosita the Riveter wrote:

Aranna wrote:

This suggestion is made of wrong.not only does it sound like a horrible idea to add peppermint to a drink that has way too much already, but I am what they like to call a cheap date, and it would be a bad idea to be drunk at work.

Don't you carry a gun at work?

Yes I carry a gun at work.

replaces arranas work beers with odouls

{makes note of Freehold asking to be shot, emails to Aranna's future legal defense team}

Alas! I return with news. Kthulhu is alive and well. However, he was whisked away by nightgaunts to places unknown, never to return. He still thinks we're all a bunch of unapologetic fanboys of Monte Cookie, but he's made his peace with the fact.

All this was relied to me by a talking brain in a brass container that was deposited on my doorstep last night. Or perhaps this was also a vodka-induced lunacy. I really need to alter my drinking habits...

{only half listening:} I hear ya, mack. {rubs down bar with old rag}

Hey, the lumpy brain with dog legs at the end of the bar would like to buy you a drink. Care for a midnight milk cocktail?

captain yesterday wrote:

You obviously never had Milwaukee's Best.

Hipsters drink it because the name is ironic.

Or they just needed a laxative.

Can we start a new beer company and hire Sylvester Stallone as the spokesman? We could dress him up in a futuristic cop uniform and have him proclaim "I am the law, and this is the lager!"

Ugh, that was brewtal, barley a pun, and quite possible the wort I've ever seen. I'm dredding your next pun.

At least with a Schwarzenegger theme, you could say something like "It'll terminate your thirst" or "I'll be bock".

Can't stay to chat, I'm off to deliver a truckload of diet soda and chai tea to the Jack's Clubhouse.

Was it to the new "Two Dwarves, One Keg" viral video?

Cenosillicaphobia is the fear of having an empty beer glass.

I believe I need to pick up some Iron Throne Blonde Ale ASAP.

gran rey de los koolaid is banned for crashing through the wall yelling "Oh YEAH!" and serving sugary beverages to an already hyperactive Mad Badger.

{finishes frying up couple pounds of bacon for Spike} If this makes you gassy, I'm denying to Lynora that I gave it to you.

Jack Hammer wrote:

Here's the Jackarator 2000!

*proudly displays a 2x4 with nails sticking out of it*

Kinda low-tech but looks like it beat those eggs silly.

There's still some peasant blood on that, y'know...

{finishes unloading first daily 18-wheeler of beer} I thought the peasant blood was supposed to be on there. It's like a seasoned cast iron skillet.

I felt a great disturbance in the Farce, as if delusional monsters suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I fear something terrible has happened; somewhere, poodles aren't being punted. {slumps facedown into puddle of beer, snores}

{sigh} You vamps never do your research. Is that glitter, BTW?

If you want the poodles dealt with, you just need to negotiate with their known enemies. However, the Jacks will expect compensation.

{stuffs an Ewok in a poodle costume and launches it from the Jackapult}

<siiiiiiiiiiiiigh> It's just not the same as a real poodle or a unicorn.

Geistlinger is banned for implying jack-booted thugs are a bad thing.

{wakes up briefly, finishes off beer, returns to sleep}

Jack Hammer wrote:

Jack B. Kwikk, Esq. wrote:

It's a sad truth. Lawyers eat their own kind.

Lawyers give me gas. All that hot air.

And you don't want me to get gassy. Trust me.

So... you ate pony?

I thought only Frenchies ate horses? {eyes JH suspiciously}

I hope you have a permit to use gas.

Yeah, he's a licensed natural gas fracker.

Jack Hammer wrote:

I like just stomping on 'em. They pop like bubble wrap.

Hungry Jack® will have to find something to do with all that goo.

Jack Lalanne Power Juicer? It keeps most of the pulp, so you get your RDA of fiber. {goes back to backing in 18-wheeler tanker of beer}

Sebastian wrote:

What?!?! I'm not dead yet. How can I have a ghost.

Oh, yeah, one more thing...

** spoiler omitted **

I would eat your heart, if lawyers had such a thing.

He has several hearts of former clients. Generally he smokes them over mesquite & hickory and makes jerky out of them.

Spanky the Leprechaun wrote:

If a post contains the word "railroad" in it, just stop reading, Heath.

You know how you get.

It always leads to this.

{upgrades button with replacement}

Jack's Right Hand Man wrote:

lynora-Jill wrote:

You do realize that the boss is currently a disembodied brain in a jar right?

Callous is the only one of us that has a brain. That's probably why he leads us. BTW, how did his brain get in that jar anyways?

Truth is, it was a pickle jar. The fool fell for my trap. Soon my takeover of the Jack clubhouse shall be complete!

You're powers are weak, old man.

Me? I'm the Switzerland of Paizo. Totally neutral.

*shifty eyes*

Hey, where do you want this gold bullion shipment marked "Payment for 'Squeaky Toys of Mass Distraction', Thanks -- the Poodles"?

{drops off recently ordered packages:

and a pallet of croutons for all.}

They didn't bother me at all. They're adorable.

I'd be happy to watch them for you for a while if you'd like.

Come on, guys, back in the truck. It's past time to go. {O.L.L.I. and S.Ta.N. reluctantly untangle themselves from Lynora and slowly climb back into truck}

{flustered, attempts to doff non-existant hat and smooth back non-existant hair} Sorry, miss. I need to straighten out whatever they did to poor Mrs. Underhill back in daycare, and make sure they get their naps. If they don't power down for at least 10-11 hours a day, they get awful cranky. You're welcome to stop by the daycare at the brewery if you'd like.

{climbs back into truck} It's ok guys. I'll swing by the garage and pick up another couple bottles of organic oil. And Mr Jansen editted another episode of BSG for you so the Cylons win. {little modrons cheer}

{drives back to brewery}

{plugs into lighter socket again} WHA-EEEEEEEEEEEP!

{sighs} You ate enough electricity at lunch. {picks up W.A.L.L.I.} If you don't stop, the battery wil be too drained to start the truck.

{finishes unloading truck, stacking kegs, and unpacking liquor bottles} Done. Now- {boggles at modrons in truck, hurries over}

Sorry Miss Lynora, I hope they didn't bother you too much.

{to W.A.L.L.I. and S.Ta.N.} Did you guys duct tape the nice lady gnome to her desk again?

So who's watching them while you're at work? And I really would love to meet them.

They're at daycare back at the brewery. {turns suddenly... thought he saw something moving in the beer truck cab, but sees nothing now}

Oh, that's so cute! You should bring them by sometime.

They're pretty literal and completely lawful, so it takes constant watching to keep them out of trouble. Hopefully they'll grow out of it.

Molly, stop tormenting the delivery driver. He obviously can't handle it.

Molly pouts.

Sorry miss, er-, misses. I can't call in sick. The gnomes are a little slow upstairs, but they eventually figured out golems don't get sick.

Also, I need the hours... I adopted three little modrons from that Slaadi Struthers program and they need taking care of.

Hi! *waves*

Maybe you should call in sick. *giggle*

{duct tape manages to hold jaw shut, goggles keep eyes from popping out, but nothing stops the steam coming from his ears}

Homina-homina-homina...

{arrives in steam-powered truck, starts unloading two dozen kegs of beer}

{glances around enviously} D*mn it, why am I stuck working tonight?! {goes back to unloading truck}

*consumes brain*

Oops.

Okay, the next one is for Aberzombie...

{wheels in dumpster full of brains} A delivery for {checks manifest on clipboard} a Mr. CBE Ghost, from the Limbaugh Fan-club. Hmmm, these look barely used.

It could be the blurred vision brought on by this wonderful drink, *hic*, but, no, you've really got Pit Fiend bouncers. I can tell the difference, you know?

Can I get another one of those Irish Eyes, barkeep?

*Lightweight. That drink isn't strong enough to strip the paint off my golem ass. Oh well, give 'em what they want.* {slides another drink to the leafy fellow}

I'm actually dead too, and slaadi don't have any after-life deal... but I guess a deity interceded on my behalf.

{ponders telling the dretching of the All-Spark splinter embedded in his forehead, but thinks better of it.} Here little guy, have a White Russian. It was recommended by The Dude over at the end of the bar.

What do I have to do to get a drink around here? Fill the air with toxins and blow around menacingly in the wind?

Rifftrax is definitely the best way to watch "The Happening" by the way.

...or on a brainbending substance

{wanders behind the bar, no one seems to object} Here ya go Leafy... {slids him an Irish Eyes} ...just don't start singing that song.

2

She disappears back into her room for a few minutes and comes back wearing what might generously be able to be described as a dress. More accurately it was a series of gold straps connecting to each other in vaguely dresslike shape, although somehow it managed to adequately cover all strategic areas.

She spins around. "That look better?"

Meanwhile... At the local brewery, a lone Jack welds patches on a metal fermenting vat, damaged during another gnomish brewing "experiment."

Hmmm-hmmmm-hmmm... {suddenly both eyes sproing out and his jaw falls open} What the f&!%ing hell!?!?

{quickly looks around} Huh, She's nowhere around?!

{angrily punts a passing gnome} Did you f%!+ing gnomes build me out of leftover f*%#ing 80's GM f!+#ing auto parts!!! F%@&!

Thank you for the pancakes, miss. Tell that Mr. Hammer fellow I'd be happy to deliver beer here anytime. {holds jaw closed with hand until he is out of range from LJ's magical womanly wiles}

{He hops back into beer wagon, looks over his shoulder at Lynora-Jill, waves happily, and then distractly drives over some pedestrians.}

{Yells at pedestrians under wagon:} Hey, watch where you're walking!!! I'm driving here!!! You better not have scratched the paint or I'll come back and kick your f#*%ing a**es!!!

Sorry, miss, er, that doesn't normally happen. {clicks eyes back into head, uses duct tape to affix jaw shut} *MMMMM, it smells like pancakes and tacos in here*

Giggles. "Yeah, I think the tacos are gone. Jack Hammer decided to have a taco party last night, which would have been fine if he hadn't then decided to go squirrel hunting, fallen through the roof and landed in my room. Thank goodness for Acme room deodorizers," she adds with a wink.

"But there should be plenty of pancakes. Hungry Jack makes sure we never run out. Help yourself," she adds with a smile.

{grins like an idiot, brain slips out of gear} Um, thank you, miss. {heaps pancakes onto a Styro-gnome plate, starts cutting them into heart shapes}

*Hearts?! I think I may be having a catastrophic breakdown!! Now my face feels hot!!! I think there must have been a drunk gnome on my assembly line.*

*No wait, she keeps smiling at me. AUGH! That's it... she must have a Turn Male to Idiot gaze attack! Or a nymph's Blinding Beauty and Stunning Glance!!! She must be mighty powerful for it to affect a golem like me*

{sighs contentedly, pokes self in face with a forkfull of pancakes, having forgot his jaw is taped shut}

Look out! It's a dragon!

That was a big poodle, but hardly dragon-sized.

Gearbs uh geck off bear, ten nurs of thiw itt inn hiss mowthe.

{attempts to punt Puddle, but is far too distracted staring at Lynora-Jill. He does succeed in forcing poodle to drop the beer keg.}

Let me put these kegs in the kitchen for you. {As he stares at LJ, his jaw keeps dropping open, and finally his eyes sproing cartoonly from sockets}

Sorry, miss, er, that doesn't normally happen. {clicks eyes back into head, uses duct tape to affix jaw shut} *MMMMM, it smells like pancakes and tacos in here*

{knocks on clubhouse door} Hello? Delivery for a Mr. Hammer, a Mr. Jack Hammer. Wait- that can't be right!? That sounds like a prank name. If this is another stupid prank, I'm gonna kick some f~!&ing a** back at the office.

{checks watch, shouts:} OK, I can't wait any longer. I have to get back to the brewery. This was already billed to your account, so I'm just gonna leave it here at your front door. {unloads five giant kegs of beer, tears off and leaves delivery receipt}

<bonk!>

Stupid F$%*ing squirrels. I'm gonna kick some a** at the office, then come back and chainsaw that f!~$ing tree down. G*dsd*mn squirrels! {shakes fist angrily at squirrel-infested tree, stomps back to horseless steam-powered delivery wagon, and roars off down the road at a blistering 7MPH}

Edit: D*mn, ninja-ed!

{glances in rear-view mirror, spots lovely young woman at door} SCREEEEEEEECH! {puts wagon in reverse}

"I'd normally get some hair of the dog for this hangover but with the poodles running amuck around here I think I'll just suffer this thru."

{knocks on clubhouse door} Hello? Delivery for a Mr. Hammer, a Mr. Jack Hammer. Wait- that can't be right!? That sounds like a prank name. If this is another stupid prank, I'm gonna kick some f!#+ing a** back at the office.