The Story of Waffles
The following is the fictitious Waffles bio from the Facebook group that IT started called "My Friend Waffles Needs 1 Million Followers". You should join the group just to see the sexy picture of The Wife. No not my wife. Dr. Chacko's wife.
I started out life as any normal child would, growing up, and trying to find my way in the world until that fateful day when I was seven. Our class decided to take a trip to the Eggo Waffle plant in western Massachusetts to see how a real factory worked. I remember being excited to see where these breakfast delights might come from and I was not disappointed.
Even as a lad I was a bit forgettable shall we say and I had that explorer’s lust that lives in the hearts off all children. So it was not a huge surprise that I wandered off as the tour continued and even less of a surprise that nobody noticed I was missing. I climbed up to the top of the stacks of Eggos when the event that would change my life forever happened. I tumbled from the mountainous stacks into a group of boxes in the middle of the warehouse and could not extract myself for many hours.
By the time I was finally able to free myself the Warehouse lights had been turned off and I was stuck alone and quite frankly scared in this large building. What I did not know was that by some convergence of fate and bad karma this was the final day that the warehouse was open. Due to lack of sales in the eastern hemisphere of Eggos and the cheap cost of manufacturing these in Taiwan the plant was to be closed and used as a backup storage facility.
What this meant to me became abundantly clear. I was trapped in this Warehouse and nobody was coming to get me. The first few weeks I held onto hope that someone would notice I was missing. Possibly my parents would send out the National Guard to find me or my teachers would notice that I was gone. I concentrated on survival for those early weeks. I had an abundant supply of food in the legions of Waffles around me. Fortunately the skylights let in enough light for me to see during the day. In order to get enough water to drink I had to collect the drippings from the leaky roof. I setup a makeshift home and waited for someone to come for me.
About nine months later I finally gave into the despair in the knowledge that nobody was coming. It was a difficult time. I was seriously contemplating suicide as the loneliness and the horror of my situation sunk in. As I sat upon the edge of the largest stack of Waffles and thought about throwing myself upon the hard concrete below my savior and best friend forever came into my life. His name was Boxy. He truly did save my life. We had the greatest of times together. I would talk to him and he would listen in rapt attention until I was done. He always knew what to say. We spent hours playing Waffle Frisbee and juggling. He taught me to read all the boxes in the warehouse and showed me a true philosopher’s heart. We spent hours in deep meditation studying our inner selves.
Years past and I grew older. It was hard to tell how much time passed. Eventually I made another friend – sticky. He was a rat I found one day on a sharpened stick. He was a great friend also. Boxy, Sticky and I had many adventures together. Sticky taught me everything I know about sex. The women are all amazed at my skills in the sack, well, assuming there were any women, they would be impressed.
The years passed and finally by chance one day during the great Waffle shortage of 2000 the Warehouse was finally opened. I was found by these strange human beings who I had not seen in so many years. My identity was finally confirmed and when the police went to my house my mother told them I was upstairs. Apparently she had not realized I was missing.
Now I was stuck in this brave new world. The smell of Waffles clung to my skin from years of eating them. I had a pallid complexion and a sensitivity to the light. I knew how to interact with boxes and rats but humans were a different story. I tried to date but it is hard when the only food your stomach can stand are Eggos. The only women I could even attempt to attract were from Kentucky and, despite the Waffle House being high society there, even I knew that was not going to work. Finally I stumbled across this wonderful place called the internet. I setup this Facebook account and created this group. I figured if I could find a million people that would call me friend then I could possibly finally find happiness.
So please join this little group. Help erase the tragic accident that has gotten me here and open up a bright new future that has endless possibilities. Thank you for your kindness. Waffles.