The official site of The Life and Times of Car Johnson
You've made it! You're in the cube and dancing through the finish line, where all your loved ones are waiting and cheering for you, though there are the jerks that are rolling their eyes and scoffing at your accomplishment. There's always a few in every family.
After all that struggle and random trivia, you finally made it to the end! A red haired man wearing nothing but a par of cellophane shorts walks up to you, carrying a blue ribbon. Is that Car Johnson? It is! Car Johnson himself is giving you your prize! He hands it to you, smiles, then says, "Oysters don't wear pants." Then he walks away. There's something about his voice. After a few moments, you realize that he was the disembodied voice in your head! He turns back and transmits one last ramble into your mind.
Did I mention I won an award in high school? It was for the best and most creative use of a contraption built for one of those egg drops. I modified a cannon and shot an ostrich egg (don’t ask me how I got it) over the heads of the student body and faculty. Actually, that just got me suspended for three weeks. My mother created the award to make me feel better. I did end up a legend in my school because of it, though. It made up for the fact that most of my peers called me “that ugly kid who always tries to sell us homemade soap after gym class.” (This was before my plastic surgery. Back then, the only girl I ever slept with was the creepy chick who collected the toenails of her crushes and wore them around her neck as some sort of talisman.)
So, I may not be the next Einstein, or even the next CEO of CBS, but I’m not the next Gomer Pyle, either. I am an idiot and proud of it. Idiots of the world, unite! Wear your shirts made of shag carpet and your bottle cap jockstraps. Laugh in the face of danger, even if that danger is an oncoming train. And above all, no matter what anyone says, don’t try to wire up your own homemade microwave. Trust me, I know.
You wonder where he got that strange power as nothing like it exists in The Life and Times of Car Johnson. You are about to try and catch up to him and ask him, when a browned haired woman grabs Car's arm and vanishes in a puff of gold smoke. That must be Car's author. With them both gone, you have no way of asking where all these random magic powers are coming from. Well, at least you have a ribbon... with a face on it.
Code: Cow fetus tea parties are fun!