Extracto de Rana

What follows is the most lamentable comedie of Carlos (pictured in the poster below, top right) and his magic frog juice. From an early age Carlos was widely renowned in Barcelona as big dumb galoot. Truly, the boy was dumber than buttered toast, but possessed great physical strength of which he was very proud. By age ten his favorite game was to run up behind small, elderly people and scoop them into the air, shaking them around with joyful cries of ’’Look Mama! Look at Carlos!’’

The many difficulties Carlos faced growing up were only made worse in adolescence when his obsession with bodybuilding led to heavy steroid use. The side effects included roid rage, asthma, and that dreaded Spanish sexual malaise: impotencia. Carlos became violent and depressed. Due to his dim wit he was mostly unaware of his medical problems, but he'd noticed that Carlos Jr no longer wanted to come out and play, which he had attributed to his growing paranoid fear of cats in his bedroom ceiling.

Then, just before his 21st birthday, Carlos met the man who would turn his life around. A wandering Chinese immigrant advised Carlos that all his ills could be cured if he would prepare and consume Extracto de Rana, the juice of frogs. Though it began as a private joke between two asian hobos along the lines of ’’Lets make the crazy Spanish eat stuff’’, our hero soon realised great improvements in his life. His asthma cleared up, he finally graduated seventh grade and found a stable job in the clergy. His sucesses culminated one humid Thursday afternoon when he finally brought the beautiful young Maria del Pescados del Oro to his apartment.

As he laid her down on his gubby single bed he realized with crushing certainty that Carlos Jr wasn’t with the program. Impotencia! Desperate not to lose the moment, Carlos leapt from the bed and banged a blue plastic box of frogs down on his dresser next to the blender.

Maria’s blissful gaze turned to surprise and then shock as he began skinning the frogs, each in one fluid, practised movement and throwing them in the blender. ’’C.. Carlos...’’ she murmured. But Carlos wasn’t listening. He’d never been with a woman before and knew how urgently he must get his magic fix before the moment passed.

’’brerBRBRBRRRBRBRBRRBRBRBRR!!!’’ The blender rattled to life, a deafening, frightening sound in the quiet room. One long burst, and the blades had hardly stopped spinning as Carlos lifted it to his face, greedily gulping down the mashed frogs, with bits spilling round the corners of his mouth and splashing on the floor at his feet. He lifted the blender right over his head to let the last gulp fall into his mouth, the rim leaving a muddy crescent on his forehead.

As he placed it back down on the dresser he felt a rushing, tingling in his loins and knew the cure had worked. His panic turned to triumph and he turned around to face Maria, thrusting with his hips and fists in celebration, ’’vroom-vroom’’ motorcycle noises bursting enthusiastically from his frog-flecked grin.

Maria was backed into a corner of the bed, a sheet clutched tightly across her breasts, her eyes wide with terror, focused on a mangled frog’s leg clinging with tiny dead claws to Carlos’ thrusting member, swinging with the movement of his body. This was not the strong young shepherd she had met at the Iglesia de la Espátula. Still making his ’’vroom vroom’’ noises, Carlos advanced towards the bed. Maria hesitated one moment more, then screamed and ran naked from the room, out the apartment by the front door. She kept running until finally caught and subdued by police.

News of the event spread far and wide throughout Spain, first as a comic headline then as unverified reports as the gullible and desperate tried this remedy for themselves. A following grew and sought Carlos out, helping him to finance his very first sala del milkshake de la rana, or frog milkshake parlour, and soon it was a chain with locations as far away as Madrid and Sevilla, where you can try extracto de rana out for yourself.

What you have just read is a true story, which I made up. Visit the Red Spot to watch the process of frog juice making. It’s horrible but you... can't... look... away. Until you see the dude drinking it, that is.

And remember the Ceiling Cat.

Created 2006-08-24 17:31:16 by 421 and filed under stupid