Thursday, July 27, 2006

Hand Hyperion a History

On this auspicious occasion of the 1000th Monkey Barn post, we're pleased to announce that some Barners mutanied against the Barn Overlord! We had a Monkey Barn project without his knowledge (despite his claims to the contrary)! Our mission: near impossible. The goal: figure out the enigma wrapped in a mystery that is the big Aitch. We bring you our lucky guesses, conjectures, riddles, old wives' tales, and urban legends.
This episode of "Monkey Barn" is brought to you by the Barners Kapgar and LJS. There's one swear word, so this post is not rated G.

So, without further adieu, the Barners "Hand Hyperion a History"


Have you ever wondered who this Hyperion person is? Where did he come from? Is he some lab experiment? Is that where he gets his superior good looks, intelligence, and debonair that makes the ladies swoon and men want to be his best friend? Is it natural or from training or is he a magical being? Or is he just some genetically blessed god next door?

Well he is all of those and more. He’s many things to many people. He’s a loving son and brother who likes to write to his family. He’s the perfect boy next door who helps others and takes pies in return to neighbors. He’s a confidant to world leaders. You’re thinking I’m not answering the question. Maybe who Hyperion is just depends on who you are? Alright fine…here is the truth….hopefully I will not be hunted down for this…but…Hyperion is really a former double KGB agent. That is why he is in the witness protection program; that is where is gets his clever tricky ways; that is why he feels a need to be an overlord; and that is were he gets his smooth way that makes everyone want to be with him.

Or he could be….

Story B

Hyperion was born in the wilds of Iceland to a deer farmer and his artifical insemination expert wife. Her warm hands and his knowledge of all things deerly made them rich and powerful among their tribe, the Uglunkamungawumps. Hyperion was named after the tribe elder, Hyperactiveamunkawump, and honors the name to this day.

After tearing at blazing speed through all the local schools had to offer, Hyperion bid his family a fond adieu and went to live in Borneo for a season or two, thereby becoming the youngest teacher of Icelandic as a second langauge (ISL) in existence (he was 4). At 12 he married the daughter of the chieftan of the Smittleisk tribe, and together they had, in rapid succession, 14 children of all shapes, sizes, and colors, not a one of which has a name that ends in Y.

Today, Hyperion is the head of a multinational conglomeration of dingo-skin hat-makers, and resides with his multicultural and multicolored family in a remote region of Australia, near Uluru (just a bit to the right and down a touch, yes, that's it). He reads romance novels for the sex scenes and raises Great Danes, who sometimes bring home a dingo or two with who to start their own families, which, because he's a soft-hearted fellow, makes it difficult for Hyperion to continue the business, and is why he's thinking of moving to Indiana and becoming a soybean farmer once the youngest (now a toddler) gets to be 5 feet tall.

Story I

Touring with Roxy Music as a youngster was not easy on young Cecil. Even at a young age, Cecil knew the magic of blending musical harmonies with cross-dressing and heavy eyeliner. It didn’t help that Ziggy Stardust performed at Cecil’s bar mitzvah. When Cecil became a man at age 13, he decided that he would make his mark on the world and he ran away from Roxy Music. But, he took plenty of eyeliner. Cecil’s influence on the band was notorious, and the band broke up less than a year after his departure.

Cecil wandered across England on a too-small tricycle, and hitched a ride to the States where he was singly responsible for the advent of the 80’s hair bands such as Whitesnake, LA Guns, and Poison.

But, Cecil soon grew tired of big hair and lots of eye makeup. He grew tired of people mistaking him for a woman. So, Cecil shaved his head, washed his face, left Hollywood and became an ascetic on the big island of Hawaii. He seduced Pele with his good looks, and divine melodies on the ukulele. In a moment of absolute stupidity, Cecil scorned the goddess Pele and she unleashed her fury in the form of Kiluaea. Her misery and pain was so great that she still has a bounty on his head and has vowed to eternally hunt him down so that he can be the featured course at the Goddess’s annual gala. Cecil fled to the cold shelter of the Yukon Territory and has been living in darkness, sleeping during the day, to avoid the revenge of a jilted lover. He changed his name to Hyperion. And now…And now, you know the rest of the story.

Story G

John Smith, alias Hyperion, more than any other, can be called Ontario's own pirate, although he was not a native of the colony, he was born in a cave in rural France. In 1680 he entered the world, a bastard child of DaVinci and Jim J. Bullock. How that happened remains to be seen. Raised by feral lions, as is the case with all pirates, his entrance into proper society is obscure. His name originally, it seems was Edward Drummond, and he began his career as an honest seaman, sailing out of his home port of Bristol, England. He is seldom known by that name, for after he became a pirate he began calling himself Hyperion, sometimes spelled in the records as Hypey, Hyp, Hiperion, or the big H. Yet it was as Hyperion that he was, and still is known, and it was under this name that the people of his generation knew him, 'a swaggering, merciless brute.'"

By March of 1718, Hyperion had decided to leave England and sail up the east coast of North America. On his way he encountered several ships who joined forces with him. By the time they reached Ontario in late May, Hyperion had nearly seven hundred men under his command. Shortly after his crew blockaded Ontario, Hyperion sunk his flagship ”Dragon's Revenge”in Beaufort Inlet, killing all on board with no mercy. The booty he had stolen was put onto a smaller ship, and he escaped to Toronto.

On the morning of November 22, 1718, Lt. Schrodinger and Hyperion fought a bloody battle near Kapgar’s™ Hole at Ocracoke Inlet. Hyperion received twenty sword wounds and five gun shot wounds before he was brought down. Lt. Schrodinger ordered his head cut off and the body thrown overboard. Hyperion’s™ head was tied to the bowsprit of the Adventure and taken back to Virginia. The death of Hyperion signaled the end of “The Golden Age of Piracy”.

Known only after his death was his secret life - that of Hype Rion, a mild mannered crochet teacher. Married to 10 women all over Canada, he sired countless children, one of which is the ancestor of Jim J. Bullock. So in a way, Hyperion was his own great grand-daddy. It's also suspected that he had the ability to lay golden eggs, which is what kept him in wealth until his death. The 'Hyperion's majesty' crochet toaster cover exhibit, along with his preserved severed head is on display at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles through December.

Story H

Ed. Note: This story contains shocking and Rated R photos of Hyperion.

I've known Hyperion ever since the witness protection program dumped him in Canada's frigid hinterlands. So, thanks to the mind-altering state the horrific culture shock (moving from somewhere warm, southern, and mint-julep-steeped to somewhere ice-encased, northern, and maple syrup-steeped) the move induced, I have been able to glean nearly every significant moment in Hyperion's life. Everything I am about to say is absolutely true.

An Adorable Photo of Hyperion at age 9

I met Hyperion through his mother at an exorcism. Regrettably, not only did it fail, we actually went to a Cactus Club restaurant with Hyperion afterwards where he speculated at length about WWII concentration camp inmate underwear and domination of the world through a card game he'd developed, Paseo Dos. I did my best to stay away from him, recognizing the danger, but Hyperion's incessant drive to dominate, vulcanize, and martenize those around him lead to him taking my wife out to the movies. They both claim it was the result of mistaken identity; Hyperion was determined to have his savage way with me, but since my wife was buying the Milk Duds, he elected to wait.

At some point in time I got married. After summoning a ferocious blizzard to make the spring event more interesting, Hyperion attended, was promoted to Usher UberCommandant, parked cars (by pushing and/or throwing them into stalls), stole attending civilian's cell phones, and (with the help of his Usher Gestapo) held the entire wedding briefly hostage. The reception was lovely.

Hyperion was always a big hit with the ladies, as evidenced in this photos when he was age 21.

Since then he's been livin' tha vida loca: crashin' cars, sweet-talkin' scaly chicks, raging against the machine, and trying desperately to get to the Denny's where he is worshipped as a deity.

That's pretty much it. Oh, did I also mention the Maori tatoos he got after winning a local dance contest with the the traditional New Zealand rugby haka chant/prance/threat of imminent destruction? Or that he likes biting the heads off whippets? Or the thermonuclear device he had implanted into his spine (unfortunately leading him to eternal chiropractic servitude?) Or the fact that Hyperion is in fact holding the two Israeli soldiers on behalf of Hezbollah? Bet I didn't. Which is good, since this is going slightly over the desired length anway.

You know what they say about men with large noses huh?

So now you know. And knowing is half the battle. Yo JOE!

Story H

When I first me Hyperion, in the summer of 83, the first thing I noticed about him was the hat.

It seemed to be set on gimbels, in that it always stayed level, no matter what angle his head, and that, combined with the color and the fringe, was almost too much to behold in one glance. Indeed, if he hadn't spoken in that obnoxious twang of his, I may never have noticed anything BUT the hat. And OH , what a blessing that would have been.

But I was young, and full of ne'r do well instincts, and Hyperion's crazy tales of conspiracy and derring do filled my head like...well, like something overflowy, and, lost to all reason, I signed on to be his partner in crime. And crime was definitely what you could call his taste in clothing. The pleather, the leopard print. If there was a bad clothing decision to be made, he made it. In vain did I point out that goldfish, while fun, should not be in your shoes. He just went ahead and damn the consequences.

After I begged him to remember that discretion did not involve the use of the Bedazzler, and that we needed to be discreet, he stormed out of the hotel, and only returned after Bedazzling an entire showroom full of denim.

Finally, at the start of the 90's, it became clear to me that his mania for outre fasion was going to get us killed, and we went our seperate ways. Oh, I do think of him still, in the spring when a young man's fancy turns to tuille, but I know now it would have never worked between us.

For alongside that brilliant mind was an insatiable desire for trashy fashion.

Story H

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away....

There was a sudden disturbance in the force. A new menace had been brought into the universe in the form of a beautiful baby boy. His beauty was deceiving, for behind those steel blue eyes lay the mind of a genius, bent on world domination and pirate annihilation. The child was named, Hyperion "The Conqueror".

The Ninja sensed this new force in young Hyperion and believed he could be the promised one. The one who was to lead all Ninjas in their fight against evil. The one who would fight the evil Pirates and restore order to the universe.

The Ninja took Hyperion and spent 30 years educating him in Art, Science,

Literature, History and Politics. They also trained him in all the Ninja arts. He took to this training especially well. Hyperion had become in a word....lethal. His talent was legendary and there were whispers among the Ninja that Hyperion could kill someone with a mere thought.

On his 30th birthday, Hyperion assumed his rightful place as the Jonin, the master strategist. As Jonin, Hyperion had to plan how to win the war against the Pirates. This was not an easy thing to do, since pirates had gone underground and slipped quietly into society. Hyperion decided to coax them out by creating the Hyperion Institute. A place where he deliberately starts debates on who is better, Ninja or Pirates, in the hope that the vain pirates would show themselves be destroyed.




It's funny because I really know nothing about the Enigma known as Hyperion. One day, this phantom just started posting random comments about perving 17 year olds and now, here I am, posting as a regular on his site.

I felt the need to do a little background checking, though, when no one else was able to give me any details on "Hyperion" other than "the Canadian Kevin Smith," "some dude," and "damned if I know."

How did I go about my background check? Well, the Web of course. Where else would I do it? Google has never steered me wrong before.

Here's what I came up with...

Hyperion always strove to be a pirate. He dressed up in women's blouses and used his mom's mascara to paint eyepatches and stubble beards on his face and blackout one or two teeth just for effect. No, not on Halloween, either. Thankfully, his lean, feeble, and, well, non-existent musculature allowed him to simply dye one of his lower legs a permanent oak brown color to serve as a peg leg. Friends could never tell the difference.

At the age of 17, after a failed attempt to join a pirate's guild ("Boy," they told him, "you're just too damned small. You'd make us look bad."), he joined the professional workforce. His first job entailed running packages of undetermined content back and forth between Colombia and the United States. Sometimes he was able to hide the packages in hidden cavities in his suitcase or soles of his shoes. Other times, more "drastic" measures were taken to ensure their arrival at their destination. He was one of the best in the game. A regular go-to kind of guy for those packages that just "needed to get there." Within select circles, he was known as "UPS" as a result of both his reliability and the permanent brown coloration of his shorts upon "delivery."

After an unexpected incident with one of the more creatively hidden packages, Hyperion wound up with a three-month hospital stay in Bogota. There he met the woman of his dreams. She was in the bed next to him suffering from complications incurred from a failed black market sex change operation. In a raspy voice, she said "me llamo Lola." His ignorance of foreign language resulted in him calling him/her/it "Yamolola" for their entire relationship.

Two years later, after Yamolola left him for a simian trainer living on a farm in the foothills of Venezuela, Hyperion decided he needed time to himself, to find his voice, to figure out what to do with his life. He turned to the Web. His life's ambition soon became Monkey Barn, a home dedicated to the woman of his dreams where he could live out the rest of his years in relative anonymity surrounded by people who might easily confuse him as someone of consequence... a person to be respected... a man deserving of their admiration.

Yeah, that's just not gonna happen, now is it, Hypey?


tiff said...

Well, if it were ME, I think the striped under-trou are enough for a man to rule the world. Brave fellow.

kapgar said...

Oh! The guy in the underwear is supposed to be Hypey. I thought it was the other guy in the photo that was perving the guy in the undies. My bad. Understandable mistake, right?

tiff said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.