Gabe loves fan fiction. You Can Make It Up features his own personal alternate adventures starring some of our favorite characters.

“Excuse me, ma’am?! Miss?! I think you dropped something! Ma’am, you dropped some money!”

Bradley Cooper, dressed in a shark-gray suit and a stiff white collared shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, walked with the casual air of a man of leisure enjoying a sunny afternoon in the quiet of his own menagerie. He didn’t even notice the UPS delivery guy shouting at him until the same UPS delivery guy tapped him on the shoulder, a crumpled $100 bill in his hand. “Ma’am, you dropped this.” Bradley Cooper turned to face him. The UPS delivery guy held out the $100 bill, grinning from ear to ear. Bradley Cooper stared at him long and hard. That’s what he stared. The UPS delivery guy pointed behind him at a spot on the ground. “Back there, I saw it fall out of your pocket. Gosh, you’re pretty.” Bradley Cooper took the $100 bill and put it back in his pocket, loose, where he kept all his $100 bills. The UPS delivery guy bowed low, and took Bradley Cooper’s hand to kiss it. “It was my honor to assist you, m’lady.”

Bradley Cooper yanked his hand back. “Oh no! I’m a man!” he said loudly. “I have a penis instead of a vagina!”

The UPS delivery guy held his hand to his chest as if it had been burned on a hot gas or maybe electric stove. “A thousand apologies, ma’am, I mean, sir, I am so sorry. I really thought you were a beautiful woman. But I can see now that you are a man. Or at the very least, I can hear you saying that to me.” He bowed again, although not as deeply this time, unsure of how deep one man was supposed to bow to another man according to the custom of the king’s court, and then he walked quickly back to his truck.

Bradley Cooper walked into a Starbucks and ordered a venti iced caramel macchiato with soy. “Looks like someone needs a pick-me-up!” the barista said. Bradley Cooper laughed, and nodded. “Yup,” Bradley Cooper said. “You don’t want to fall asleep at your desk,” the barista said. Bradley Cooper smiled. He loved to go into a local coffee shop, like a Starbucks, or a different Starbucks, and just mix it up with regular folks. “Otherwise your boss might not give you a big enough box of chocolates on Secretary’s Day,” the barista said, handing back the $490-some odd dollars in change from the $500 bill Bradley Cooper had used to pay.

“Excuse me?” Bradley Cooper asked.

The barista’s face fell. “I’m just kidding, ma’am.”

“Why would you assume that I’m a secretary?”

“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry. You’re right. You could be a nurse, or maybe a sales representative for a pharmaceutical company. Or maybe you work as an airline stewardess! It was presumptuous of me to assume that you were a secretary.”

“It was presumptuous of you to assume all of the jobs you just named, not to mention sexist.”

“MEOW!” the barista said. “Just kidding. I know all about women’s lib and feminism and stuff. Are you a lesbian?”

Bradley Cooper threw his drink in the man’s face. “You are a pig,” Bradley Cooper said. “And I am a man.”

Now Bradley Cooper was upset! He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were definitely wet, and he worried that some mascara might be running down his cheek, so he kept wiping at his face. An elderly man on a bus stop bench tried to give him his handkerchief, insisting that he could keep it because he was so pretty, and because of his resemblance to the man’s deceased wife, Rose. To try and calm down, Bradley Cooper went to a strip club. At the door, he held out a $10,000 bill to the bouncer. “No, ma’am,” the bouncer said, holding out his hand like a stop sign made of meat. “Tonight is ladies’ night. Girls get in free until 11 o’clock and half-priced drinks until 2.”

“Oh, this always happens to me!” Bradley Cooper shrieked. “I am a man, but all day long I am confused for a beautiful woman!”

The bouncer didn’t say anything. He was staring at Bradley Cooper’s chest and licking his lips. Bradley Cooper, now furious, stormed into the strip club and proceeded to get trashed on strawberry cosmos before proceeding to the back room for a private dance, during which he came three times, completely soaking his silk panties.

Comments (38)
  1. Hey Midwest Monsters! We can’t bowl with local celebrities and comedians like them fancy New Yorkers, but we can eat pizza! I’m going to Ann Arbor for a wedding on the 12th, but on the way back swinging through Chicago to visit monsters!

    Sunday, July 13th, 7 PM at Pequods in Chicago
    207 N. Clybourn Ave Chicago Il 60614 USA

  2. damn it, I SO hoped this week’s YCMIU would be “James Cameron Fixes the Oil Spill.”

    • You Can Make It Up: James Cameron Fixes the Oil Spill

      The atmosphere in the main headquarters of BP was distraught. Everything they tried to make the oil stop leaking had failed, making them extremely hated and responsible for the worst man-made disaster since Tsjernobyl. Plus, there was no new episode of “How I Met Your Mother” this week, taht was also not good. They were absolutely shitfaced on the $120 a glass whiskey from “Lost”. They were, after all, still an oil company that made gajillions of dollars that have to be spend. Because the economy.
      “Allright, so we called Kevin Coster, but that didn’t work out, burning it didn’t work, burying it failed, now what?”. Mark, who was a total Avatard and had seen it over 40 times –which is why he was known as M’a’rk around the office-suggested getting James Cameron, the briljant director of said movie to help the come up with a way to stop the oil spill. Everyone agreed that he was so creative, he would think of a solution. Also, they were still very drunk. So they called Jimmy Camz.

      James Cameron, hoping he would receive the Noble Prize for Being Great and Not Being a Douche for fixing the oil spill so he could finally forget the pain of not winning the Oscar, agreed to meet the people at BP. After he was told how bad the situation was, his mind-gears started to turn.
      “You have the basic premise all wrong.” James said, “Because oil is very special, just like unobtanium, right?”
      “So this ‘oil’, or hardtoobtainium as we will call it during the rest of the movie..”
      “It is not a movie, mr. Cameron”. He had to be reminded by other people real life was not a movie.
      “What if…. what if this hardtoobtanium has magical properties? What if there is someone who, as hinted heavily towards during the movie, can actually talk with the oil? First he hates the oil, because oil killed his parents, but later he discovers he has a gift and in the climatic finale swims towards the oil pipe, risking his one life to talk to the source of the oil. Then, when he has almost drowned, the oil comes alive and saves him in the form of a giant whale, then turning into a second moon?”
      Nobody had any idea what he was talking about, but it sounded pretty.
      “Fuck it, you do that. I need to get some sleep or cocaine.” The head of BP walked out of the office, falling asleep in the elevator.

      Of course that worked, given that James Cameron is a genius and knows everything about science. And for fixing the oil spill, James Cameron won the Noble Prize for Being Great and Not Being a Douche.

  3. I like twist endings. I totally expected him to cum just once.

  4. Yet another fantastic story! I vote that Videogum start a new segment where you chronicle your daily activities… but what to name it?

  5. “He is very pretty.”
    -Steve Winwood

  6. Someone call the tombstone etcher. “You are a pig and I am a man” is going on my headstone.

    • I called the tombstone etcher and explained the situation. He said that it would probably be best if you called him yourself. The logistics just work better.

  7. Coops, can I call you coops, you’re beautiful and all but I got to masturbate at least once damn

  8. Ohhh. This whole time I thought it was MARISSA Copper. You might want to change the picture to something other than that screencap of The OC. #OCgum

  9. ugh, the end of this was Very gross…

  10. Tom Cruise does not know how to feel about Bradley Cooper.

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