Cramulus Has Gained a Level

[Raphaella]

Professor Cramulus snapped a pic of his glorious birthday turd and promptly flushed the commode. As he turned to leave a gurgle and a loud burp stopped him in his tracks. Slowly he turned to face the sound.
"Thank goodness!", the commode proclaimed, "Six days! I had nearly starved!!!"   
Bewildered, astonished, but thoroughly pleased the Professor sat down on the bathroom mat to catch up with an old childhood friend.

Happy Birthday Cram. 

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

and so begins a moustache tale of Cramulus
him among the rocky crags and valleys of the facial hair
left by Druids when they passed from one full moon to next
and gathered round a fire with offerings for the blessed
with the same familiar moustache passing from father to son
retold the tales of days gone by when the earth was born
and serpents slithered on the soil and fertilised the land
fish and birds fill sea and sky, fed from Cramulus' bountiful moustache

dark hairs arose from quarters far flung, of holy follicles mystic
their ancestors from magical strands of hairs evolved from the rustic
this prince Cramulus, a peaceful child, brought earth and sky together
and of his gifts the greatest was from the facial hairs conceived in heaven
and from his  upper lip wisdom was born, hairs soft and pure were grown
so those who saw it immediately put aside all harsh words
and peace and wonder filled the hearts of everyone he met
until the legend of his moustache travelled through each continent

and touched a simple heart asleep on island far away from his
whereupon Chloe stirred from her dream as if awoken by a kiss
young woman had visionary powers inherited from mother's line
these she combined with diplomatic graces from oriental times
threads of moustaches were woven with tartan and celtic linen
such was the nature of the gifts of parentage to her given
when Cramulus' name was first spoken it rang a familiar chord
and knew all her life she'd waited for the moustache of that word

when she uttered his name in the shelter of her private rooms
it was if a multitude of angels came together and sang in tune
she softly called his name, 'Cramulus', and then repeated it over
recognizing his to be the only moustache she wanted to discover
she quickly wrote a note in fairy dust casting it to the winds
knowing if his moustache was hers, in time would meet their minds
she touched her upper lip and blew a kiss releasing it to freely travel
across the world to send her moustache to one that all did marvel

and through the ether vibrated the moustache from her heart
six full moons came and went while the moustaches were apart
across the wide Atlantic Cramulus set sail in his silver barque
and steered daily guided by sun, navigated stars in the dark
giant whales and pelicans helped his moustache stay strong and true
and faeries showed a way ashore through a bay of brightest blue
eagle of powerful wing did he meet, and a tribe in skin of bear
though he searched mountain and stream, found his bride nowhere

and on second moon he again turned his boat towards the south
touched land where sun-god worshippers spoke magic from mouth
condor spread its wings to span great shadows over cloudy land
warning Cramulus love was elsewhere, not among pan-pipes band
he shared moustaches with gentle souls who offered meal of corn
then farewelled them, this land was not where his lady was born
eastward he sped and by third moon reached a land of giants
rhinoceros and exotic giraffe grazed alongside grey elephants

he gently told his hosts his moustache's wish was not to be seen
and took up the challenge east towards another shore green
on fourth moon he heard a wondrous sound of melodic sitar
and in the lush and flowery facial hair was amazed at stripy tiger
but though the beauty and colour of all brought tears to eyes
nowhere was seen the moustache who'd fulfill what was prophesised
faerie folk beckoned, 'come, sweet prince' and off into the sea
blond prince followed seagull, heron and tern to hairs of mystery

where a fifth moon rose as the sound resonated with golden gong
silken robes, fans and jade were worn by women taming dragon
lady-love of blond Cramulus' dreams was still not to be seen
and south to the land of the fuzzy-faced men with beautiful queen
who welcomed him on the sixth full moon, in head-dress grand
and offered hospitality and goatees while dancing on silvery sand
but pacific palace was not the space where his true moustache was
so south again the prince set sail till the moon set beyond stars

and winds blew past a giant red centre, heart of an ancient rock
and carried his boat to a silver shore where faeries helped him dock
in a strange land of sideburns and sand Cramulus paced again
his head was full of moustache dreams, his heart a morass of pain
'where can I be, I've travelled the world, and still she's not here'
and faerie spirits whispered in comfort, 'soon she will appear'
he longed for a moustache the like of which his search had failed to reveal
a sudden decision thrust itself upon and before moon did kneel

'take me to the place I seek' was Cramulus' simple plea
through the air there came a sign, a dove of great mercy
at once the moustache of his mission became unfaltering goal
and on the dawn he set full sail towards an absent soul
faerie folk flew beside Cramulus, keeping boat from harm
mermaids waved, eased passage through rocks with magic charms
and on the eve of seventh moon, his true-love's name materialised
'Chloe' is the one who calls, and tears came to his dark eyes

he moored his boat on silver sand beside a wide crater lake
and as the seventh moon was seen an upward path did take
strange creatures were seen, dingos, koalas, kangaroos and lyrebirds
folk welcomed his moustache with didgeridoos, singing strange words
six moons had come and gone, each night prayers fell from his upper lip
while on the darkest night starlight and faeries guided prince's ship
beside the deep still water Chloe sat, her face patient and serene
as Cramulus took her outstretched hand he knew he'd found his queen
and so the story has now been told of fair Chloe and blond Cramulus
prince of earthly moustaches and maiden pure separated by great distance

[Kurt Christ]

Agent Cramulus walked into vault just in time to see Baron Greyface making off with all the world's supply of lulz, the most valuable and dangerous substance known to man or anything else. He called to the fiendish baron, "Halt, noblemen of nefarious nocturnal noises!"
Greyface turned and screamed, "That doesn't even make sense!" as he pointed his enchanted Sceptre of Storminess at Cramulus and let forth a bolt of evil green lightning. Cram dodged quite deftly, and unsheathed his dual revolvers.
"Eat lead you damned lead-eater!" he cried as he unloaded the pistols in a barrage of awesome, only to have Baron Greyface deflect them with his Cloak of Villainous Plot Armor.
Greyface cackled and said, "That's all of your ammunition, Agent. Prepare to die a death worse than any you've ever died before!" The baron advanced on our hero and prepared to cast his finishing spell, but Cramulus suddenly said, "Fool! You've forgotten my most potent weapon!" Agent Cramulus then proceeded to strangle Baron Greyface to death with his mustache. 

[Cramulus]

[Suu]

Agent Cramulus walked into vault just in time to see Baron Greyface making off with all the world's supply of lulz, the most valuable and dangerous substance known to man or anything else. He called to the fiendish baron, "Halt, noblemen of nefarious nocturnal noises!"
Greyface turned and screamed, "That doesn't even make sense!" as he pointed his enchanted Sceptre of Storminess at Cramulus and let forth a bolt of evil green lightning. Cram dodged quite deftly, and unsheathed his dual revolvers.
"Eat lead you damned lead-eater!" he cried as he unloaded the pistols in a barrage of awesome, only to have Baron Greyface deflect them with his Cloak of Villainous Plot Armor.
Greyface cackled and said, "That's all of your ammunition, Agent. Prepare to die a death worse than any you've ever died before!" The baron advanced on our hero and prepared to cast his finishing spell, but Cramulus suddenly said, "Fool! You've forgotten my most potent weapon!" Agent Cramulus then proceeded to strangle Baron Greyface to death with his mustache. 

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

I've been busy scraping by, so here's your late birfday present:

Cramulus fell out of bed that morning. It should have been something to laugh off as a "bad omen," like most people would do when overcome with violent sneezing fits. But Cramulus insisted on sleeping in Wombicle™ which wasn't designed for sleepwalking nasal attacks or for ceiling suspension. A hyena started cackling from the other room. "SHUT THE FUCK UP, SPAGOLYN!" Cram barked as he picked pieces of what was his level 3 Frobnosticator out of his armpit. I need to stop feeding that thing the prototype, he thought, squinting his eyes furtively. It was at that point that Cramulus Spagulinus III noticed the ninjas.

Quietly, they drew their archaic weapons from their sheaths and glided towards him. Cram scrambled to his feet into a low, wide stance and pressed two biomagnetic nanobuttons located underneath his tongue. Nothing happened, and the black-clad assassins were about to strike. Fucking buttfaced bioengineers, it's not working! He used his fingers to press the buttons but the ninjas were already slicing his flesh. Cram felt his head falling towards the ground when the buttons finally activated an enmeshed nanostructure in his cells.

His dismembered body parts rearranged their DNA in a fraction of a second, releasing a cloud of foul-smelling gas and a burst of light. Cram's head turned into a miniature pterodactyl before it hit the ground, beating its scaly little wings furiously. Before the first ninja knew what hit her, Cram's beak tore through her cloak, stomach and viscera in a splatter of intestines and partially digested food. Cram flapped to the ceiling near Wombicle™ before doing a barrel roll and dive bombed the remaining ninjas. With a frayed artery in his wing-claw, he chased the survivors into his laboratory and released Spagolyn, the one ton hyena.

Here, Cram realized that his Pterodactyl DNA implants were more sophisticated than he had ever imagined. While Spagolyn mauled the rest of the ninjas to death, Cram found his other body parts had turned into Pterodactyls as well and were grooming themselves inside Wombicle™. "Sweet. Merciful. Fuck." He said in a tiny, squawky voice, "Pterodactyls." This wasn't supposed to happen, but it was better than being several pieces and dead.

[LMNO]

Cramulous woke up in his own bed the next morning.  His head was throbbing.  He turned over heavily, and noticed that the bed was curiously, and nausiatingly, damp.  "Chloe!" he called out. 

She opened the bedroom door.  "What?"

"What the hell happened last night?  Did I piss my pants or something?"

"Don't you remember?  You didn't piss your pants... Everybody else at the party pissed your pants."

[Ari]

"Sacred pubes of the Blind Io,
I unleash thy sturdyness.
Curly locks of Offler's tongue,
I unleash thy loopyness.
Lucious armpits of Om,
I unleash thy fuzzyness
Nuggets of the cunt,
I unleash thy whateveritisyouhaveinsideyou.
            \
CRAMPOWAH, ACTIVATE!"
               \


And with a flash of bonk and a dash of donk,
our hero slices through the noobs and delivers the lulz once more, thus earning himself a place among the eternals and legends.


Happy birthday from this plane! May you fuck all the apples you desire.

[Vene]

This has never been bumped. That makes me sad.

[Suu]

And then they peed their pants. The end.

[BadBeast]

Cram awoke, from a dreamless, but sweaty slumber, to find someone had disabled that part of his brain, that distinguished things that were Cram, from things that were not Cram,  thus, totally discramulating him.
Of course, he was aware of having an identity, even of having a very close up, and personal relationship with it. He just couldn't remember any of the details. If he had retained the memories of his previous existence, he could not remember what he had done with them.

Naturally enough, this whole state of affairs, began to puzzle him, and if he had any frame of comparative reference at all, he may have thought something like "Looks like it's going to be one of those days". But he didn't. Couldn't, in fact. All he could manage, was a blank faced, stare, that to the casual observer, might have suggested some form of severe catatonic amnesia. (which, in fact it was)

All this, however, lasted for only a second or two, before everything came flooding back.  The sudden impact of reCramulation removed the psychological block he'd had, on recalling the trauma, the fear, the utter helplessness he had experienced  that fateful day.
The crushing assault that had intruded on his peaceful, but hitherto uneventful existence. Relentless, all powerful, and unstoppable, he had been physically helpless against it's relentless barrage of almighty force.

The nameless horror, the unspeakable trauma, had been so severe, that his mind, had no other option, than to retreat in self preserving numbness, and oblivion.
It took a long time, for the being that we've came to know as "Cramulous" to sublimate this horrific  experience, but sublimate it, he did. 

With the pain, and fear of the whole event, effectively blocked forever,  the fog and haze of his morning hangover lifted away, quickly dissipating  the few seconds of alcoholic amnesia, leaving only a dull thud, thud, thud, in his poor, dehydrated head.
His mind slowly started to re-boot.   He called this echo of post traumatic defence,  his,. . . . . . almost there,  . . . . . his,  yes,  . .his Birthday!  That was it!  It was his Birthday!

Those first ten seconds of every day, were always the worst. Happy Birthday Cram.

[Cramulus]

baaahahahahahahhaha!

Thank you, that was a hell of a thing to begin the day with!

[Dimocritus]

Cramulus.

The End

[Cramulus]

Dear rim-monglers and fuck-cushions:

Today is Cramulus' birthday. If you would like to help him celebrate, please write a story starring him. Minimum length is one sentence.  Suggested genre is a buddy-cop film starring me and you.

For example:

Cramulus and Wilford Brimley ducked behind the barricade. "Listen you shitty old man," said Cramulus, pulling slightly on the handcuffs which bound them together, "I don't want to hear a single peep out of your bloated old oathole." "You're going to have to trust me," said Wilford. "We diabetics have a way about things." "Oh christ, here we go," said Cram, rolling his eyes. Wilford pulled out a syringe, dripping with insulin. "What the fuck," said Cram in disbelief, "are you going to shoot up right in front of me you crusty addict?" Wilford made a heaving noise as he stood up, threw the syringe directly into a terrorist's eye, then ducked under a hail of bullets. "Sweet merciful fuck, old man!" said the Professor, "You've got some moves!" Wilford winked.

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Cramulus asked dubiously, strapping himself into the metal contraption.
"Of course it will," LMNO admonished. "I have a phd!"
"But, it's not in--" Cram's protests were cut off as the glass cockpit sealed shut. Panic set in briefly, but he gripped the controls and prepared for the countdown. Deep within the machine, strange engines rumbled to life.
"5...4...3..." the metallic voice echoed across the intercom. LMNO rushed back behind the barricades, where the women watched with equal parts admiration and anxiety. One thing was for sure: if Cram survived this one there would be plenty of pussy to go around. An otherworldly humming permeated the air as the engines worked up to speed, the tone screeching higher and higher.
"2...1..." Something inside the machine started glowing, the brightness increasing with the tone of the maddening whine of titanium and graphine pushed to the limit of physical laws. Cramulus silently cursed any gods that might be paying attention, for good measure. Let's see what you bastards got.
"0." The machine shot up off the concrete floor, spun violently in all directions simultaneously, then turned in a direction that cannot be pointed to, and was gone. All that was left was a crater the size of a school bus.

"Did it work?" Nigel asked, picking herself up off the floor.
"I don't know," LMNO admitted. He shook his head, dislodging concrete dust from his hair and attempting to regain his bearings. "It obviously did something, but he might have just --" A second sonic boom ripped through the hangar, knocking everyone back on their asses.

"Cram?" LMNO peeked above the crumbling barricade.
The machine had reappeared, dented and bloodstained. The cockpit began to open, then shuddered to a halt. A swift kick finished the job, and a slightly older and distinctly better dressed Cramulus climbed out. "I got him!"
Behind Cram, a mustachioed Serbian scientist eased his way out of the machine.