Parodissimo: The Beginning

It's been but only a handful of sun-moon cycles yet much has come to pass. My voyage on the 2nd day of the 2009th year of Our Lord was a difficult one, much credit to the estranged lovers consummating on the asphalt runway. 30 minutes of humping and pumping turned into 3 and 1/2 hours on the runway, as paramedics struggled to free the male's entangled genitalia from the clutches of the evil alien-princess-in-disguise, who had come to Earth for the sole purpose of reproduction. The two very unhappy babies who fell from the luggage compartment in my close proximity visited upon me nightmares of my friend trapped in a Samsonite suitcase and smuggled out of his homeland long ago. When I got into Frankfurt on the morning of the day before Sunday the 4th, I was instructed to put my hands on my head and wag my tail like a dog. Fortunately, after 24 hours in the detention center, I was able to convince my gaolers that I did not in fact have a tail and was permited to fly to Dusseldorf. Mind you, I was trying to get to Hamburg.
John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt met me at the Hamburg airport, where one of my bags had been mistaken for an egg salad and quarantined for further inspection, so JJJS gave them his address for future delivery. For those of you who don't know who John Jacob is, there is a famous song about him in which you find out that his name is my name too. JJ and I have been best friends since my Freshman year of highschool, when he studied at St. Mark's and helped me build a submarine base under my house to prepare for World War III. I spent the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday in a brothel with Jingy and his girlfriend Bambi. They helped me to order my Subway sandwich and book a mule for passage to the Promised Land. They also helped me pick out a nice German swimsuit, and of course beer. Schmidty introduced me to a drink which is apparently very popular in Germany called Panty-Popper, which is a Pilsner mixed with Sprite, Vodka, and Bubble Bath Solution. It tastes really good, doesn't even really taste like a beer. Apparently they also mix beer with Grape Juice and Alfalfa Sprouts, although I've yet to try those formulae.
Monday morning I rode my donkey for three hours to get into Berlin, even though I was promised a mule, which would have delivered me in two. Then I took a hovercraft for 10 minutes to the Stanford Center, which is in an area in the innerskirts of the city called Neo Jerusalem. The surrounding area is very religious with a monastery and nunnery at every corner. Sunday night much frozen precipitation fell from the sky, so everything was covered in snow and I felt for the first time in my life that the environment reflected the inner purity of my soul. The Stanford Center is an old military complex previously used to test secret human teleportation technology until the AI flooded the facility with a deadly neurotoxin. The ventilation system is even accessible from our classrooms. There are 30 of us in the program, 15 male and 15 female, and it has not gone unnoticed among us that we are something of a breeding colony. I call it The Villain, because despite our majestic lodgings and large outdoor spaces, I feel the presence of a dark force in this place. We spent Monday morning going over a few orientation things, and then around 4pm I took a taxi to my domicile and met my host-papa.
The apartment is right on a big street, and the subway has an entrance right in front of our building. We are the 4th and 5th floor, and the apartment is thumbs up NIIIIICE. I have my own room, with a desk and a lamp and a garden outside. I'll draw some pictures of it real soon. The whole apartment has 17ft ceilings (I estimated it by counting how long it took a spit wad I stuck to the celing to fall to the floor), except for the room with the shower, which has only a 6ft celing, meaning I can't stand all the way up. The bath tub that the shower is in takes away another 2 inches or so and with the low shower head, I thought I would have to either squat to shower or just take a bath. But then my host papa showed me how we are all actually shorter if we stand on our hands, so it's going to work out in the end. Or as my host papa would say, and has already said to me plenty, "People who are all tall should stand on their hands once in a while to find out how the small people live."
My host mama and papa are uber cool. I would guess they are in their late 50's, they each have 2 kids from previous marriages. Their kids have all flown the nest. I guess they miss them, because they insist I wear overalls and hug their legs just above the knee, whilst screaming "Mama! Papa! Ich liebe dich!" They both speak pretty good English, but I told them I was MLG pro, so there's no way they could call out well enough in anything but their native tongue. They took me out on Monday night to a little Thai place, where we were all given fishing poles and told, rather rudely, to catch our own dinner. Then they showed me all four sides of the outside of a nightlife hotspot which is one street over from our apartment and asked me to come inside for a drink with them, but I was still feeling sick from the shoe I ate for dinner, so I just went back and passed out.
That brings us to today, which is not over, but should have been a long time ago. I got up early at 11am to make sure I knew where I was going. It was my first time using Berlin's public transportation, so I asked Papa to hold my hand so I could squeeze it if I got scared. It takes me about 25 minutes to masturbate, which is not bad. On my way to school, I have to switch subway lines once, but only on Tuesdays and nights with a full moon. Berlin's public transport does not have problem; you can get anywhere in the city for free if you trade Pokemon cards with the train conductors. Stanford gave us a 30-pack, which should last me about a month navigating around all the different routes.
We had a bunch of administrative schmorgusborg to go through this morning, starting at 11:30am, and then at 1pm we walked over to the playground and learned about simple harmonic motion on the swingset. We ate at the Uni Cafe, which serves only French food, and then we went across town to a mall, where I bought a box of charcoal pencils, so I can draw pictures. Also, of course it didn't event take a full 24 hours before I locked myself out of the domicile... My host papa gave me the keys and asked me to hang them up by the door so he would know if I was home or not, and this morning I for some reason grabbed the keys to my Papa's Mercedes-Benz, thinking they were my home keys, and as soon as I got bored of driving 230km/h on the Autobahn, I realized my mistake. On top of this, I'm not supposed to drive my papa's car without his permission, but this morning when I left my host mama was there, so I thought it would be okay. Then she saw that Papa's keys were not there and assumed he was having another affair with the Dutch woman, so they got in a huge fight and aren't speaking to each other. I felt so bad, and like such a bozo... good first impression.
Now it's 8:30pm and I have three minutes before my computer tells me to wake up and follow the white rabbit to a bar and celebrate the Year of the Ox. 2 girls in the program stayed around from last quarter, and learned how to strip, so they gave us a private showing and it was very exciting. So that's it for now, I will come more in the near future.