Sunday, November 13, 2011

#0027: Mr. Plaid

Clearly, some toys are not to be trusted. I mean, you shouldn't really be trusting any of your toys with anything important, like driving you to the hospital or delivering your baby, but some are much worse than others.

Ladies and gentlemen, exhibit A: Mr. Plaid.

Let's put things into perspective a little. That picture right there? With Mr. Plaid snorting some hedgehog ass? Completely unposed.

I just opened up the closet door and found them that way. And call me nutty, but I swear Sonic has not smiled quite the same since.

So already, you know this Plaid guy is bad news. Molesting his countrymen, grinning broadly amidst a mess of wild grey hair, and sporting the kind of fashion sense that would make Lady Gaga blush.

Methinks, if memory serves, Plaid was a prize won in an arcade in Las Vegas. Can't say for sure, and he's certainly not going to tell me (I dare not lean in to hear his whispers), so I'll just have to go with my gut instinct on this one. So Mr. Plaid originated from an arcade in Las Vegas. Totally not a sleazy place for him to watch children or anything.

The biggest problem with Mr. Plaid, you see, is that there's so much going on there, what with the colours and the stripes and all, that you can't quite put your finger on exactly what it is that makes him so unsettling. In fact, he's so loud, it's almost disarming. Surely a dude who looks this bad just has a really wicked sense of humor, yeah?

I don't know. All I do know is that I keep finding articles of women's clothing strewn about from whence Plaid has been, and it's frankly quite unsettling.

What have you done, you pink freak??!!

Settle... Settle... Until you find the bodies, there's no proof...

Right. I'm okay.

Anyhow, one of the things I find funny about our furry friend here, is the concept that he began his journey as a prize of some sort, the kind you would be rewarded with for succeeding in a game of skill.

And I can't help but wonder, what kind of feelings this prize would evoke? Disappointment? Bewilderment? Sheer, unbridled horror?

You pay your money and play the game to win a prize. When your end result is something so queer and unsettling, you really have to ask yourself why you bothered in the first place.

Or maybe you needed a little creepy buddy in your day to day activities. A confidant. An accomplice to your homicidal secrets. Mr. Plaid would be awesome to confide in if you got up to some really sick, horrid shit.

Like I said, though, just make sure you don't get too close. You might end up with something in your ear that shouldn't be there.

Here we see an innocent Treecko taking in the morning rays. Little does he know, that Mr. Plaid is nearby, watching. And really, this is a silly mistake for a Pokémon to make, because, of course, Mr. Plaid is always watching.

Oh no! Now Mr. Plaid has Treecko in his vile clutches. He squeezes the unfortunate critter with all his might, giddily enjoying this most brutal cuddle.

The end result... is simply tragic. He never stood a chance.

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