No, I get murdered in the first year of this story, by a panda, shortly before Smears visits the Shaolin temple after you seperated from him, to begin his mental and physical training to start his “Journey to the West”, and reclaim your diary he accidentally sold to a perverted collector in India on Ebay for Christmas money… so he could buy a present worthy of showing his love for you.
I die a sad and pathetic death, no time for loving by me.
Who said anything about love? I’m just looking for a hot fling.
Just wait for next weeks installment, quit asking questions.
…there must have been cocktails and trendy young things in the Dutch Country to make me wanna vacation there, right? right? otherwise it sounds downright boring and rather Mormony 
It was downright fucking boring. Even more boring you thought to yourself, hey, how about stopping by the Minnesota Countryside and have a quilting session like in Doc Hollywood with Smears, Phyllo (who wears a turtleneck), and Blurry… and repeat all the inane shit I did on my pointless vacation.
You also gave them some dried indian corn on the cob as a door decoration, and a bag of frankincense for their indoor outhouse attached awkwardly to the side of the cabin Smears built (doesnt understand plumbing, poor boy).
I left that shit out for brevity. But yeah, your a very boring character.
Any story where I get married…man, people are gonna know it’s fake.
Don’t worry Mags, I keep a stash of expensive liquor hidden from the narrator.
Smears sits in his wheelchair, 140 years old, at the table reserved for him, at ball for his great, great grand daughter’s wedding. Senility weighing in on him, he has his lucid moments… the people of his life, infront of him now, on the dance floor… the product of a virtuous life lived well.
“Virtueeeeeeee” mumbled Smears, barely audible, out loud. No one heard him. “Virrrrrrrtuuuuueeee” Smears cried forth, barely a whisper. A small boy, wearing a patched tweed jacket, and old stained beret, with a cockney accent walked up to Smears.
“Granda Pappie, what did you say?”
“Virttttuuuuuue”.
What is this thing, called Virtue, you speak of, my great liver spotted old man? Describe it to me, how does one get this virtue you speak of?"
Smears, hearing the question, began to drift back into time, as he occasional did from time to time. So long ago, countless shores and mountains, deserts and temples. A love lost, a heart of yearning unfulfilled… a drift among the fog and waves, counting all the stars. Of seeing the world turn above the atmosphere, as the international space station burned, fragments and bodies flung everywhere… an impossible fire in the cold depths of space… just him and his arch nemesis, the Russian Monkey, the tormentor of his very existence… fighting in a brutal struggle to the death as the shuttle fell, pilotless to earth, tearing up over the shore below, seen approaching ever closer… seen through the cracks and flames. The eye patched monkey… sending chills into his heart.
A tear rolled out of Smears eye. He looked at the small, cockney boy… “Virtuuuuueeee. I will tell youuuu, a story of, a sad, paathetic mannnn, who met the right wooooman, and learned how to liveeee ag-ain. This is, the story of my life, of how I met, and won, the heart of my most beloved.”
Smears then leaned back, closing his eyes to the dancers, remembering the beginnings, and the start of our tale…
One can’t help but wonder:
When this epic love story is rendered cinematically who will play Smears, who will play Blurry and who will play…the narrator?
And will PhilosophyGirl demand a cameo?
this story is unending, for it will if kept up, become a story of almost mythical proportions. it may become the story of every mans life , to which everyone here can relate to. it’s no longer about Smears and Blurry, it’s about possibly everyone here at ILP and even beyond that.
As far as who may play it, I think it calls for new talent, undiscovered faces, easily adaptable to aspiring ideas, cutting innuendoes, and no holds barred language.
No, this here, calls for the highest degree of ingenuity, insight and foreshadowing. I almost inscribed forecasting, but almost mistakenly put forcasing, so I dropped it.
I’ll have whatever contra’s on please.
I’m guessing that the much preferred Belushi and Joplin won’t show up for the roles. 
I can see Belushi playing the role of Smears, but Joplin for Blurry is out since Joplin has been dead for a long time now.
Joker gets first dibs on being the ring bearer.
Does Blurry have a sister?
I’ll work you in eventually in time Joker… you’ll have to be one of the ones who face down Smears and die under tragic and comedic, yet extravagant circumstances, in your own little character episode in this vice driven, twisted menippean satire. It’s going to take time to come up with what and how your personality and nuanced outlook will inform your special environment and character driven circumstances in your encounter with Smears… a Nihilist such as yourself is easy to write as a character, but hard to structure into a Bildungsroman of the Menippean sort, especially since so many here are Nihilists… can’t be encountering the same character, in different dressing over and over again… I don’t wanna remake the Satyricon, or do Lexx here again. So I’ll select of you as I desire for exposition at a unspecified time, and let it play out.
Excellent, where do I audition?
In Smears Ass.
Can I pick another place to audition?
No, Smears ass is as good as any place for a Nihilist to audition for such a story. And don’t even try to slip out unawares, Smears is 35 years old, took every philosophy course available, and has tens of thousands of posts, he knows the difference between a fart and a shart you little shit. So just snuggle up, get cosy, and try not to come out as a constipated sideways shit. And lay off the pistachios… we want a smooth extraction when the time comes, no bleeding.
That sounds like a very shitty wedding.
I am going to uninvite myself from it.
You didn’t even try to sell me with thoughts of a bachelor party filled with hookers and strippers. What the fuck man?