The Canterbury Tales

From Uncyclopedia, the content-free encyclopedia.
Jump to: navigation, search
A Few of the Pilgrims that Landed On Earth in 1340 AD

“Geoffrey Chaucer is a whiny bitch.”

~ Oscar Wilde on Geoffrey Chaucer

“I don't need to take that kind shit from a fucking girl!”

~ Geoffrey Chaucer on Oscar Wilde on Geoffrey Chaucer

We're dicks! We're reckless, arrogant, stupid dicks. And the Henry Chaucer is a pussy. And Kim Jong Il is an asshole. Pussies don't like dicks, because pussies get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes: assholes that just want to shit on everything. Pussies may think they can deal with assholes their way. But the only thing that can fuck an asshole is a dick, with some balls. The problem with dicks is: they fuck too much or fuck when it isn't appropriate - and it takes a pussy to show them that. But sometimes, pussies can be so full of shit that they become assholes themselves... because pussies are an inch and half away from ass holes. I don't know much about this crazy, crazy world, but I do know this: If you don't let us fuck this asshole, we're going to have our dicks and pussies all covered in shit!


In 1340 AD, 30 aliens were on an intergalactic pilgrimage to see the last resting place of the evil Lord Xenu, see scientology. While they were passing Earth however, the spaceship they were on crash landed on our planet due to mysterious, unknown reasons. The ship was badly damaged and our poor alien friends only had one week to survive on life support. Led by the sadistic and manipulative Parson, who was accompanying them on their journey, they quickly began constructing a life-sucking device to enslave the human race and use us as batteries. Taking ideas from The Matrix, they began constructing the machine. There was so much down time, however, that the pilgrims each were able to tell four stories. Luckily Geoffrey Chaucer, a puny human skilled only with the power of iambic pentameter, discovered them. They promised not to kill him if he would record their stories and disguise them as human stories. Chaucer did just this and to the hopes of the aliens their stories were passed down for many generations and are taught in high schools all over the great country of America.


The 31st Pilgrim[edit]

Chaucer claimed his intention was to write 124 tales in The Canterbury Tales. Each [alien] pilgrim would tell four stories. Chaucer only wrote stories for 30 pilgrims, however, and he would actually need 31 to make 124 stories. Chaucer is suspected of hiding his last pilgrim's tale because it contains information that was too modern for his ancient society to accept: it would be strange if a "car" was ever mentioned in 1340 AD. That's right! The missing pilgrim's text was discovered by Oscar Wilde three years after Geoffrey Chaucer's death and goes as follows:

The Cashier’s Prologue

A Cashier there is of a place far off,

Whose wit evades the every day scoff.

When the sun bakes down at the highest noon,

He begins his work with a rusty spoon.

Through the gap in his teeth he whistles well,

And his gruff voice drowns out the kitchen smells.

A man enough to return all the change,

A selfless cashier is really quite strange.

He’s never been seen without his red hat,

Which is stained from falls into the grease vat.

The Cashier’s Tale

Long ago on a magnificent May,

I recall the sky to be bright that day.

I had just put on three coats of hot wax,

On the car that belonged to my friend Max.

He was eighty years old and nearing death;

His wife wished every cough was his last breath.

I had told him this but he would not hear

Sad words from a butler in his old ear.

But he begged me to protect his last will,

A task for which I guess I have no skill.

His wife you see pulled evil countless pranks:

She has stolen from boy scouts, nuns, and banks.

I walked in the house and I felt a chill,

If you saw the sight your stomach would spill.

There on the floor my good friend Max was dead,

His wife near with a cold look on her head.

She looked at me and dropped the cold steel,

“I’ve made a story that you are to blame

I’m sure my lawyer will clear my good name.

I’m sorry my friend but you’ll take the fall

To get cleared in court I’ll just have to bawl.”

And sadly she was right: she won her case.

Sentenced to prison, my innocent face,

I longed for the day my name was made clear

And it took sixty months and now I’m here

Until I receive my law degree skill,

So I can unveil Max’s good will. PENIS