My first stoner story

Discussion in 'The Artist's Corner' started by MrBubbles, Jan 31, 2004.

  1. this is the first time I as blazed off my ass and I just sat back with some tunes on and chilled and wrote. enjoy

    After three weeks, no spuds had begun to grow, and Bill the hairy potato farmer who had walked in his sleep since he was a child knew why. Despite the other Iowa farmers’ suggestions, he still believed it was the Forest Rats! These rats were larger than raccoons, only more vicious. However, unlike Raccoons, who had a constant craving for garbage, these Forats had developed a strange hatred for Bill’s potatoes. Although he had never actually seen these tater-haters before, he knew they existed for sure.

    Sparky his pet Gerbil knew too. Late at night when Sparky would squeak loudly to wake Bill up, Bill would rush outside banging pots and pans together while rhythmically chanting “The Monkeys!! THE MONKEYS!!” Rarely ever was there anything more than a rustle in some nearby shrub.

    Every time Bill would do his “Charge of the Monkey Brigade” he couldn’t help but think afterwards of how damn cold it was. He knew that the Forats only hibernate when it’s warm, but potatoes are best served cold.

    Yummy… Potatoes…

    Bill figured that if he had a water proof-barbed-electric fence that he could keep the Forats out, but his only source of income outside of the buying and selling of collectable action figures were his potatoes. However, his potatoes were being destroyed by Forats.

    Eventually, Bill ended his three-day marathon of anime, to find potatoes! Large, ripe, brown potatoes on his doorstep! Bill spent the day preparing a large potato feast for his small furry friend and himself. Tater-tots, scalped potatoes, hash browns, mashed potatoes, and mac n’ cheese with potato chunks.

    “Lord bless this fine meal, for without your guidance I wouldn’t have potatoes. Amen” prayed Bill while staring at himself through the reflection of his spoon. Sparky enjoyed the feast also, as he ate until he passed out. As Bill went towards his room the only bad thing he could think of the meal was that the mashed potatoes had a kind of medicine like taste. But being exhausted from his potato feast, he fell over and went to sleep on the floor. Little to his knowledge, at that very moment a dastardly deed was being dastarated.

    As Bill woke, he immediately noticed that something was wrong. Sparky was dead. Later at the Vet it was determined that Sparky had been poisoned with Gerbil poisoning that had been placed in the mashed potatoes. It only gave Bill chronic Diarrhea, but it totally burst the inside of poor Sparky. Bill knew it had been those damn Forats, but he had to get some incriminating evidence that they were involved.

    Bill vowed Vengeance and set out to enquire about Rats…

    The enquiry was a long, slow process. Just as it had been for Bill to get over the fact that Sparky was never coming back. Since the only potatoes his next-door-farmers would drop off had been eaten in the feast of death, and since his own crops still hadn’t come in, Bill decided to sell all his collectable comics on Ebay and fix the perimeter around his house. He started out by buying that special fence he had been eyeing in the magazines. After it was delivered, it only took two days of hard labor to install it alone.

    For days after the special fence was installed, nothing was caught. However after about a week or so, Bill’s fence caught a stray dog. Realizing once again that Sparky would not return, Bill decided to take the dog to the veterinarian and fix its wounds from the barbed fence. Since it’d come with no tags, Bill decided to call it Spudder. Spudder was a Pit/Lab mix and was a great companion. Feeling bad about catching Spudder the way he did, Bill tore down his brand new fence, and traded it in for dog food, collars, leashes and such.

    When the time came for Spudder to sleep outside and guard Bill’s potato patch, Spudder seemed eager to help around the house or so to speak. The same night that Spudder began to be a watchdog, Bill had a horrible dream. Bill dreamt that one of those damn Forats had started to dig up Bill’s potato patch and Spudder had caught him. Bill’s dream got sporadically violent when Spudder while being clawed at by the Forat, grabbed onto the Forat’s neck and began to tear, and tear, and tear away. Until there was nothing left but a bloodied Forat carcass. At that moment Bill awoke to find Spudder scratching at the front door while loudly barking and growling.

    Bill rushed to the door to find Spudder with the fur around his mouth covered in a dark, red substance. Bill rushed Spudder to the vet to find that Spudder was not injured at all, but that in fact Bill himself was.

    Astounded by his new injury, Bill then rushed himself to the doctor only to find that a large dog/wolf type creature had bitten his forearm. Bill came to the conclusion that the Forat King had raided his room through an open window and had ferociously attacked him. That would also explain why Spudder had been gnawing at the front door, because the King had been inside the house! Spudder must’ve also had to defend the potatoes from some lower form of Forat. Which would miraculously explain why Spudder had not aided him in the battle with the king! It all made sense now! Well if it was a War Ivan (which is what Bill decided to call the Forat king) wanted it was a war Ivan would get!

    Bill decided to put his feelings behind him and destroy the potato patch and in turn replace each spud with a claymore mine. Although somewhat extreme, Bill knew it would get the job done. Days went by without any further action from Ivan and his boys. Then weeks. Finally 7 long weeks had passed and still no Ivan. So Bill put on his furry brown trench coat with the tear in the arm, attached his overhanging hood, grabbed his gun, and went on a hunting trip.

    After an hour of carefully walking through his minefield, Bill made his way into the forest. Trudging through the damp, leaf filled forest was no pleasure cruise, especially since Bill felt like he was being watched. After about a hundred yards of trudging, bill came upon a large, vast pile of fallen down trees and branches. Apparently satisfied that he had found the Forat nest, Bill took out his rifle and was prepared to shoot. Carefully circling the nest, Bill came upon an opening in which he could hear whining and rustling. But before Bill could see what had been inside, he heard a large noise from behind him. Forgetting he had his rifle, Bill ran as fast as he could. The whole way hearing loud pats on the ground and branches breaking he ran. He ran until his blood was like battery acid, then ran some more until he came into his yard in which he jumped into right before he realized that there were claymore mines strategically placed throughout his territory.

    Right before the landing Bill had one of those flashbacks where you see your life and what you’ve done and was terribly disappointed because all he saw was himself, the potato farm, and Sparky. He knew, that his life had been a waste since no potatoes had actually grown when he tried to plant them in August and beyond. He knew then that in reality there was no such thing as a Forat. But Bill could never see that important fact because he refused to believe that it was the weather’s or his own fault the potatoes never grew. He had even gone to the extent to poison his only real friend Sparky and not remember it to keep his demented delusion alive.

    Then, Bill landed. And expecting to hear an astonishingly loud BOOM he simply lay in his yard not making any noise, hoping to die with dignity. But instead of hearing a boom, he heard a loud crack. And out of the ground came a flurry of shredded paper. Along with it came a note that said: I’m sorry for the betrayal Bill, but how could I sell you 20 claymore mines knowing that you were (and I’m sorry to say) strongly special in the head. If you come by my store I’ll give you your money minus the paper and small amount of explosive. Again im sorry, sincerely yours, The Shopkeeper.

    Bill couldn’t do anything but laugh and laugh. All of a sudden out of the forest leapt Spudder tired of chasing after his master. When Spudder led Bill back to the opening of the vast pile of trees Bill found a litter of puppies and a female dog lying next to them.

    Once the pups were able to walk Bill decided to move from the tater-state and go to Sin City where he could indulge himself in some alcoholic spuds (vodka you retards) for a change and hopefully start a new life. One that had absolutely nothing to do with Forats.

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