*cough*

Due to an ongoing "virus" on the ol' typewriter has, OMS will return to regular updates with funny links that bring the funny as soon as the daggum thing is fixed.

In the meantime, here's a li'l story to keep you all, all five of you, entertained:

Scene: the barren woods of Laporte, Pa. OMS, dressed to kill in his blaze orange trucker hat with "Hoss's '97" and a buck head on it and his blaze orange hunting jacket sittin' in the woods waitin' to kill him some buck yessir.

OMS plops down gingerly on the ground and leans up real good on that there tree there. He looks left. He looks right. He hears a crack. He cocks (quiet, you) his rifle and peers real nice through the scope.

Up hops the vicious creature that must be destroyed. He pauses. OMS pauses. They make eye contact. OMS grunts, evil man that he is, and prepares to fire on this soon-to-be fallen foe.

But then the cute li'l baby squirrel, complete with cute li'l red mohawk, looks at OMS to say, "Hey, HEY! You! I'm not a deer. No sir. I'm a cute li'l fuzzy squirrel and you needn't point that weapon of destruction my way, kind sir. I'm just passin' through here, mindin' my business.

"And in a minute, I'm gonna hop up that there tree there and warn all my friends that some poet in a hunting suit is sittin' there praying nothing comes near him so he actually has to, you know, load his gun, p*ssy that he is.

"Now go back to sleep, dear friend. We know you don't want to harm us. And easy with the Kit-Kats."

So OMS, convinced that he was slowly going insane because what baby squirrel busts out a fat joke, ever, put his head back and drifted into his li'l nap, setlists dancing in his head, gun firmly not loaded.

And END SCENE.

Back as soon as the ol' laptop stops with the pop-ups and disappearing icons.