User:Helk
On Helk:
"'Ee really eez a noice lad, 'ee eez!" - A plump and loveable english lady, on helping her with the groceries... A moment later she noticed her credit cards were missing, we left.
"In the Yellow Submarine of Life, Helk is a Powderkeg... and the fuse is lit. I'm not sure what that means for the rest of us... I don't know, maybe you didn't purchase a ticket. Maybe you were too late and missed the ride... Had you forgotten you could even ride? The possibilities are limitless. You know? It's like, 'Hello! Try again later! Everything's red now! BING! BING! BING!'... 'Look over tharr, Maw... It's a whole messa frawgs!'... 'Now Jimbo, you know 'em ain't no good sizin' frawgs!.'... 'Ah know, maw! But Ahm hungree!'... I don't know... atleast I still have my faculties." - Helk's anonymous twitching drinking buddy...
"He scares me..." - Helk's Grandmother
"He takes my lunchmoney... everyday... what is he like 35 years old or something? LOSER!" - a 7th grader
"I don't walk past his house anymore... bony dogs with patches of skin showing... sitting on his porch with his shotgun in his lap. He just stares..." - an avid walker
"That BASTARD!" - Helk's Ex-Girlfriend
Projects[edit | edit source]
Liberace[edit | edit source]
“Man, was this guy on fire, or what?... WHOA!”
Out of this World[edit | edit source]
Liberace, before he returned to his homeworld, revealed to sources that he was, in fact, not of this Earth. His home planet, "Pompadore" as it would sound in the human tongue, went to war with their Sun. Being for that reason alone, Liberace departed from us in the physical sense and now fights the good fight elsewhere in the Galaxy. His fans may now know, that in addition to being a master of the Ivories, he is in reality, also a noted Battle Lord of cosmic proportion. He alone is credited for the sacking and total annihilation of 17 races of beings throughout the cosmos. It is rumored that he is, atleast in part, related to the Roswell crash and, a few short years later, the Development of the SR-71 Blackhawk and Apple Jacks. Here on Earth, he went on a Fast and Furious rise to the top of popularity. A Flaming Ball through the charts that let men around the world know, "It is okay to Bling Out." Which poses the question, "Why would a Battle Lord of these proportions take such a loving stand towards Humanity?" Due to his rapid departure, he was never able to fill us all in on that question.
To Mom and Dad: SKREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!![edit | edit source]
He wasn't a Green Man from Mars... or a Squid from Nectron. He was in all senses, a completely freakish "thing", that rendered his mother and father insane. His father was later able to recover some of his faculties and gain employment as a fry cook in a popular Fast-Food Chain, but still mumbles things about "Robots and Chickens"...
When he mastered the art of make-up, Lil' Lib was able to hit the streets and play with the other children. Avoiding eating them would prove to be a difficult, but masterable, task.
A Big Alien in a Little Body[edit | edit source]
It took "Liberace" some 15 years before he finaly adapted to how the human body moves. As a result he was the subject of a tremendous amount of ridicule. Mainly about how he held his hand and the slight "side-to-side" movement to his walk, mainly evidenced in the female side of humanity. He would later, with understanding of the reasoning behind the prodding, adopt his persona as a gay man. This ruse would exist as a tactful maneuver to further hide his true identity as Battle Lord of The Pompadorans.
Early in life, Lil Lib immediately recognized musical notes, and would adopt the piano as his instrument of speech. Musical notes on Pompador were used to coordinate and strike with their grand armadas. He may have revealed that he personally had slain 17 races of beings... who knows how many wars he carried out behind the veil of his "Vegas Shows".... or even in practice at home for that matter. The number may very well be staggering.
It was during his "teen" years, in the human lifespan, that he would take a keen interest in Rennaissance France, noting, "They had the best hair, and that make-up was Wack!" This would lead to further ridicule from his peers as he would go to school in these uniforms. He also would lead the world in a new fashion coup that posed the question, "How many feathers can one man don?" Liberace meteoric rise to the top would result in him being adored by hell of alot of old women.
He seemed almost unnaffected by the demographics of his fanbase. While many musicians would become angry and showed affectation in their music, Liberace embraced it. It was as though he held some secret knowledge, or was successful in other, "more important" endeavors.
Benefactor?... or more Sinister Intentions?[edit | edit source]
Liberace's prolonged stay here definitely bode well for the Human Race. The 'Rotch left a legacy of music that will "Lib" on in our hearts and souls for eternity. Few did not atleast appreciate his costumes and antics. But, what was his purpose here?
Did he sincerely love our love of music?
Did he take interest in our colorful history?
Or were his intents more sinister? Was he actually staging invasions of a Planetary Scale from our very own Earth?
The Pompadorans used music to coordinate all aspects of their society. From economics to childhood schooling to the feints and maneuvers performed by their Elite Armadas, Pompadoran society ebbed and flowed and answered itself like a Mozart Symphony. Their Planetary Battles were especially beautiful, noted Liberace, building slowly from a drab introductory pulse to a climax of Bridled Chaos and Beautiful Swelling and Wanton Destruction. With such structure and rhythm, The Pompadorans have never known defeat. Until of course, they win the Battle with their own Sun. Assuming they do, they well would be destroying themselves. Or do they have a plan? We may never know... we can only sit and wait... we can only watch for the next big flamboyant pompadore-sporting musician to hit the scene. Then we can only watch, and suspect. And, then, we might decide to approach. Maybe. If he seems receptive to interviewing. It's just something we'd have to "feel out"...
Sputnik[edit | edit source]
“Hmmm... it only has one ball...”
Commonly mistaken by Beatniks as yet another annoying class of poet, Sputnik is the result of Russia's attempt at making a new sport. A strange combination of Vodka, a gas-powered baseball and recently decapitated chickens, "Спорт спутника", or "Sputnik sport" lasted only a few minutes as a young lad in the Russian Navy really knocked the crap of the "ball"... Government heads, observing the birth of a new National Pastime for Mother Russia, saw an opportunity to fix a problem with the launch aspect of a new Top Secret Super-Dooper Classified Project. In addition to embarrassing America, this would adversely affect the career and mental stability of one of America's favorite celebritites, Howdy Doody
Sputnik was named after the sound it made, "Sputniksputnik *wheez!* Sputniksputnik...". The small gas-powered motor in the "ball", which was amazingly similar to the Top Secret Project's design, was too weak to get off the ground. All problems were all solved when the young Russian-naval lad proved to have a talent for smacking the crap out of it. Still, with a headstart launch, Sputnik's "little-motor-that-could" still took 25 hours to reach space. Howdy Doody, Head of America's Space Program, was livid when he caught wind that the Russians had just beaten the Americans to Space, coining his famous line, "Damnit! Who am I paying around here??!!"...
The Birth of a... sport?[edit | edit source]
What is sport?
Competition?
Fun?
Severe Inebriation?
How about all three. Some folks in Mother Russia decided it was time to combine some elements of the average life of the Russian and create a new sport, the likes of which the world had not seen. Drawing from principles America's "baseball", farmers in the area and society's love of "Little Water" (or Vodka), the sport would involve hitting the hell out of a steel ball while extremely drunk and... well, there was an issue on how exactly recently-decapitated chickens would fit in. But before deliberation could be satisfied, Government officials stepped in and arrested the makers of the "Sputnik Ball" for treason. They were found "not guilty" and shot anyway for now knowing about the project. And as short-lived as this paragraph is, so in turn we see the length of time this new sport lasted.