The Complete Works of John Henry David III

Mike Trepal

John Henry David III was an accomplished American “silly quote writer”. Herein lie his major works and a small detailed biography which follows.

“Redispose my underachievement for I am greatly misunderestimated!”

-John Henry David III
“Avast there, silence between decks, my albatross wears no diaper!”

-John Henry David III

“The longer the nose, the harder it is to yo-yo standing knee-deep in popcorn with Garth brooks and Mickey Mouse square dancing to Sir Mix-a-lot on the first full moon of an odd year divisible by 162 without throwing a Frisbee to a dog that questions you in Greek.”

-John Henry David III

“I cannot but feign injury, for my bowling ball has no luster. Ouch!”

-John Henry David III

“Ornithology is 50% mental, 50% physical, 50% location and beasts, and a pinch of blue turbulent psychokinetics.”

-John Henry David III

“A little bit of honesty goes a long way, but a partially melted Snickers bar looks convincingly like poop.”

-John Henry David III

“Allocate my callow candid rental space you pompous epitome of pugnacity….yo.”

-John Henry David III

“Alas! for I am blind, I think.”

-John Henry David III

David, or as some called him “Beep-Beep-Vhhrrrr” after the sound a microwave makes when you set the timer and start it, was no doubt the most misunderstood and unappreciated figure in American literature. He is shunned from textbooks and libraries, and even his name has been scratched from his very own tombstone (not really, but it does well to emphasize whatever point I was making).

John Henry David III was born in 1982 A.D. in Stratford-upon-Dirtpile, the sister-city to Stratford-upon-Avon, birthplace of David’s idol: Shakesomthing-or-another. His father served as the city’s local poopsmith. He toiled long hours shoveling filth and human feces from the “mother pile” to smaller “subsidiary turd stacks” within close proximity. His mother was tragically born without a face and died of starvation when she realized that she didn’t have a functioning mouth; she was only 87. David III had no siblings but did own a pet brick. He named his pet brick “Needle-Nose Pliers” after its rectangular form and sunny disposition. David III and Needle-Nose Pliers got along very well and experienced a rather splendid childhood together.

Then the depression hit. Not the Great Depression of the 1930’s – that’s foolish to think of that when I say “depression”. It was the depression in David’s life. Needle-Nose Pliers fell off the Empire State Building in a selfishly vain attempt to fly and shattered into 47/3 pieces. The doctors were stumped; they knew not any brick treatments. All they could offer to the shards of Needle-Nose Pliers was basic psychiatric therapy at a discount, and minor chiropractic services: it was useless and it put the family into debt. David was crushed. Immediately after the funeral, David, in direct response to the tragedy, decided to devote himself to writing nonsense quotes. He locked himself a closet for a full lunar year with no food, water, or personal hygiene equipment and simply wrote (Note: many of Henry’s later quotes from this period are just scribbles due to the fact that his writing light bulb tragically burned out, unbeknownst to Henry; this period is known as the “Blind Inspiration Period”)

Henry felt that he was accomplishing much in his closet. He would slide his finished works out of the bottom, where they collected into a heap over the months. He wanted to climb the inspirational ladder, so in 1989 he moved to the cooking oven, a fatal literary mistake. His own father along with a plump 22-pound turkey baked Henry to death. Henry Sr. never even knew it (Note: Henry Sr. was later arrested for cannibalism, a habit that he suddenly acquired in 1989, around the time of his son’s death). And so died the only modern silly-quote writer, at the tender age of approximately 32 parakeet years. His remains can be found in subsidiary pile no. 726 (where his father “placed” them unknowingly), and rest peacefully to this day.


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