Good. At least I don't have to start all over again with the introduction to this story because this story took place in the same place with that of Cinderella, only at different time frame; around a few years after Cinderella died from that mishap that occurred in the operating theater where her cosmetic surgeon accidentally sneezed into her open nasal cavity, causing her to be instantly infected with germs to the brain that sent her straight to the afterlife. This totally saddening occurrence had since caused a major change in the world of medicine where surgeons and attending medical personnels are required to wear masks while treating all patients, whereby the surgeon who attended Cinderella, according to the country's new law at the time that had faced a complete makeover by the ruling Country Whore, was sent to serve his sentence at a local brothel as a low-class male prostitute meant to serve the third class folks for forty years or until he suffers from impotence or he dies out of sexual exhaustion, whichever comes first.
Not a great way to serve a sentence, anyway. Now let's get back to the main story.
This is a story about how a lad that is Mr. James E. Dong, a local from a town roughly thirteen miles away from Country Whore's castle, amused everyone not only from within the ruling territory of the principal kingdom of Her Majesty Country Whore but also those from around the world with his stories.
So grab a coffee and let's read on.
* * *
"Rama Lama Ding Dong."
Much to all the confusions created from the sentence seen above, it is a very wise thing to do to inform the readers that Mr. Dong, despite his perfectly acceptable, oriental-sounding real name, insisted everyone to address him as 'Rama Lama Ding Dong'. He also outlined the way for him to be addressed, that is first to utter the name 'Rama Lama' while shaking both hands vigorously in the air and making extremely and excitedly happy facial expression before turning the head to smell own armpits, right-side first while saying 'Ding' and the left-side for 'Dong'. This completely nonsensical, stammeringly humiliating way of addressing someone was clearly an idea designed to perfection by Mr Dong himself, none other than humiliate others as a regular entertainment to amuse himself, who apparently was not an easy person to amuse by his own nature.
Mr Dong was a fashionably-rich bachelor in his early forties who had an IQ of 165 who lived by himself in a mansion located in an uncharted backyard of the commonly-terrorized end of the royal garden shed of Country Whore's castle. Regular terrorizing activities that occurred days and nights at every place surrounding his mansion, best by drunk royal horse-cart drivers who oftentimes crashed into the wall of the mansion at night thinking that the mansion's front-side oil-lamp was the entrance to the castle and annoying noise from the royal garden each time the Country Whore held a bubble bath party that was almost daily caused him to move all thirteen miles away to Dumbshire, a small town named after its residents who, according to Mr Dong "have no brains but praise to God at least their hearts are right in place".
Good thing about Mr Dong was that he was a very generous man; he donated a lot to the people of the town including providing them with infant-level education facilities and was the only reason why Dumbshire then had a brand-new Mayor House from which Mr Dong resided in after the people made him the mayor following his effort in rebuilding the house that was entirely burnt down during the last raining season in the middle of a 3-foot flash flood. The construction certainly did not trouble Mr Dong at all, for he pursued a brilliant academic career at The Royal College of Faraway Land (later when Country Whore took over the throne was renamed to The Royal College of Nothing, that despite its name suggesting that it offered some sort of technical teaching, really did nothing) studying engineering, economy, forestry science, astronomical physic, gymnastic, driving, social skills and soon after the college was renamed while he was still there, nothing.
The bad thing about him was that he needed to be regularly entertained but at the same time was terribly hard to please. He felt that he deserved to be entertained after all he did to the town and its people, hence first led to the creation of the way for them to address him in such a way that somehow amused him a little bit though not entirely, and the people of Dumbshire didn't mind at all because they thought Mr Dong had just taught them some sense of pop culture that was popular at that time.
The people of Dumbshire, though dumb, were very heartwarming in filling this clearly weird and wicked needs of him, but at all account had failed many times due to their inability to come out with even a simple joke; a disability that was common among the folks of Dumbshire, due to their out-of-the-world dumbness. Nevertheless they worked hard for many years until sometime in autumn that year came a young lad who appeared before Mr Dong when he was busy building a fully-walled public toilet; the first of its kind ever built in Dumbshire, complete with auxiliary piping system and overhead shade, a drastic effort taken by Mr Dong when he decided that he had had enough with the people of Dumbshire who, if not by the wall, had their nature calls answered on the wall of his house, that is also the Mayor's Residence.
* * *
He addressed Mr Dong in full, perfectly-done Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong salute and shook his hand, making him the first to shake the hand of the mayor since he was made one. This had certainly shocked Mr Dong, who immediately stopped the work on the public toilet to take a full look at that young gentleman from Dumbshire who apparently practiced the manner of real men and not that of a quarter-sober drunk ostrich who puts its head in the sand whenever addressed, thereby exposing its thinking parts.
"Who are you?" asked Mr Dong to the young gentleman.
"The name's this, Mr Dong," replied the young man before he drew some, that to the people of Dumbshire, ridiculous, mostly nonsensical and unreadable sentences that were only consisted of number 1 and 0.
"A Binary code," said the amused Mr Dong. "Fifteen years since I first arrived here in Dumbshire and this is the first time I see a binary code, that also spelled 'stupid'."
"That is me alright, sir," said the young gentleman.
"You are stupid?" asked Mr Dong, slightly even more amused.
"Not exactly, sir," replied the young gentleman. "I am indeed Stupid, and though my name is spelled in such a way, I do own an IQ of 160 and somewhat an excess baggage of humor, hence me spelling my name on this layer of roughly fine granules of rocks and minerals that is also known as sand in binary, though I could answer your question that is 'What is your name' with the answer that is 'Stupid', but I reckoned you were smart enough to read in binary hence me answering you in such, and I was right about my first thought that you are able to read in binary, hence proving that you are not stupid like my name implies though I really am not stupid, for our difference in IQ is only, exactly and precisely 2 points."
Hearing this, Mr Dong passed out right at that instant. Imagine what he must had felt, being surrounded by people in Dumbshire who oftentimes at the very least mistakenly took a frying pan as a toilet bowl and the other way around because they generally owned an IQ that was slightly higher than that of retards, to meet such a fine, young gentleman that was not only smart, witty, amusing, and also possessed the word 'Stupid' as his name. For full three days and three nights he was unconscious until he finally woke up in his bed in the Mayor's Residence one cold morning. First thing he saw was Stupid, who right away performed the perfectly-done Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong Salute.
"What had happened to me?" asked Mr Dong while brushing his hair and head with his hand.
"You passed out and barfed soup of corns, most of the grain visible, on my shoes the other day when we first met, sir," replied Stupid politely.
"My," said Mr Dong in shame, "that must have been stupid."
"Not me, sir."
"Of course it's not you," pressed Mr Dong. "What, are you stupid?"
"I am, sir."
"I didn't mean that. I said I must have been stupid doing those you mentioned."
"You certainly are correct, sir."
"Of course I am! What? Are you...ah forget it."
Mr Dong rose from his bed and looked out the window and saw the gathering crowd in front of his house, whom when seeing that Mr Dong was entirely alright after the corn soup incident the other day cheered in the masses and performed the synchronized but overall distasteful Rama-Lama-Ding-Dong Salute.
"Look at them all stupid people, doing stupid," said Mr Dong, clearly dissatisfied with his effort to educating the whole town for them to at least obtain some sort of decency to realize that the salute was nothing but all a very stupid thing to do.
"They are not my people, sir. And they are certainly not doing me, for I am right here tangentially standing to you in a manner which they certainly could not touch me and do me whatsoever, disproving your saying that they are but they aren't, a fact from which still supports the fact that I am a virgin nevertheless regardless of you pointing on another opposing fact that I am not following the statement that you said they are doing me, which they are not, sir."
Mr Dong looked at Stupid in the eyes, who at the time was politely smiling at him, and wondered if he ever received any cheek-ripping, flaming-hot slap in his whole entire life.
* * *
Mr Dong and Stupid became close friends soon after that, though at times Mr Dong was really challenged to his limit to whether he should slap Stupid with the back of a shovel or knock him on the face with a rock hammer due to his obnoxious way of answering him whenever he rose a question. Both of them helped develop the town and in less than 2 years, the average IQ of the people rose drastically 7 points above the original, and the town emerged to be the most advanced and highly developed region in the whole country, hosting the country's first superbowl arena, a drive-in fast-food outlet that came with floor cleaners in case the horses that pulled incoming carts decided to answer the call of nature at the drive-in kiosk itself, a 4-D Toto shop, a preschool education center that educated mostly adults, and at least three skyscrapers at the time, that each measured 7 floors high, all half a floor higher than that of Country Whore's castle.
This has certainly stirred an extreme madness in the Country Whore, for many people were leaving the capital city to Dumbshire to see for themselves the wonder of those man-made things both Mr Dong and Stupid had built. That surely have impacted the royal prostitution business where many whore-houses had been closed down due to drops in demand. Completely bedridden from final stage HIV she was suffering from, she ordered the royal engineers, all infected with various types of STDs, to 'do something or risk to be sent to the male brothel'. Scared as shit, though everyone knows that shit does not have feelings, they executed a major overhaul in the main capital sewage pipeline, redirecting them to mainly flow instead of from Dumbshire, resulting to a massive wastewater buildup under the town very own foundation.
The buildup caused the town to slowly experience some really nasty incidents; buildings and people started to sink and collapse into pools of shits building up underground, killing them instantly and caused major wrecks in infrastructures and air quality of Dumbshire. Sensing the problem, Stupid presented a major solution to the problem in order to stop the disaster for once and for all.
"Right here," said Stupid to Mr Dong while pointing his finger at a trapdoor on the ground they were standing on, "there is a valve that have remained buried for many years for occurrences such as this that is happening right in front of our eyes."
"Therefore I," he continued as he undid his clothes, "will go down there and open it to allow re-channeling of this completely disgusting and comprehensively danger-promoting disastrous wastewater that is the cause to our suffering.
"That is the most stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life!" yelled Mr Dong, though somewhat amused by the idea, before continuing with his legendary saying: "What? Are you stupid?!"
To which Stupid replied, "that I am indeed, sir," and jumped into the manhole after he opened the trapdoor into the pool of stenching pool of shit that awaited restlessly for his landing. Soon after that, a series of scary sounds started to originate from the bottom of the manhole, and slowly the level of wastewater that by then had surfaced and overflown reduced to none. Stupid had done his job well by opening the valve, and Dumbshire was rescued by his brave attempt from being completely reduced to ashes. And shits.
Stupid however never resurfaced, and was then commemorated a fallen hero of Dumbshire. A statue of him was erected at the center of the town right in front of the Mayor's Residence, much to Mr Dong's annoyance because he still had yet to decide whether he should slap the bronze statue with the back of a shovel, or stamp its face with a rock hammer.
* * *
The story of Stupid traveled many miles across the continents, much by the effort of the people of Dumbshire, whom after the disaster had returned from their runaways and rebuilt the town back to perfection and told and re-told the story many times to visiting tourists and to their young springs who later traveled the world, bringing with them the story of Stupid. He is until today regarded a hero, and his bravery is still remembered by adoring many.
That is also believed as the real reason why when people say that they are ought to do something stupid, which at first is indeed crystal-clear to them of its pure stupidity but they did it anyway, is to commemorate the heroic sacrifices and braveness of dear Mr Stupid of Dumbshire who swam through a river of shit, never to resurface.
And this is indeed, a very stupid story to tell.