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Wow, I haven't updated in a while! Well, here are a few of the random goings on in my life: Well, any way, now that the unplesent reality stuff is out of the way, I should present some non-sensical humor. Unfortunately, I can't think of anything right now :( So, I present to you a piece of fiction from the archives. I'm sure some have already read this, but for those who have not, enjoy. God Damn SquirrelsGod damn, this is a heck of a way to end up. I’m all alone, ain’t nothing but blackness ‘round me. Damn, it ain’t even blackness. I think back to how this all happened sometimes, and it still doesn’t make much sense. It was a Friday, in the middle of august. It was damn hot, almost as hot as that time we were able to squeeze momma out the door with out butter. And to top it all off, as I lay there roasting like a pig, I was board to death. So, I decided I’d call Bubba. “Hey, Bubba, “ I said “Whatca doing?” “Notin’, Cletus. What you doin’?” “I’m sitting around roasting to death… Wanna go do sometin’?” “Sure, Cletus, but what?” “Well…” I tried to think, I was never too good at that “We could go over to the park and kill squirels.” Squirel killin was a popular pastime between Bubba and me, but I guess it might require a bit of explanation. You see, there was this old play-ground a ways down the road from the trailer park, all kinds of rusted swings, a half disitegrated jungle gym, and some crunched up wooden thing that we never could figure exactly what it was supposed to be, some kinda hovel now I guess. There’s woods near the park too, and they’re just full o’squirels. We really liked to kill those fluffy tailed little vermin. Sometimes we would get creative and start smashing with sticks and shovels and such, and once we used some TNT that Bubba had swiped form some wheres (Bubba’s left eyebrow never did grow back after that incident… and neither did those two finger come to think of it.) Most of the time, however, we prefered to blow the buggers away the old fanioned way – 12 gauge pump-style shotguns. After we’d a kill some many of ‘em I couldn’t figure why those rat-lings kept coming back. Squirels are dumb, I guess. Well, any way, getting back to the story; after a bit more of conversation Bubba and me decided to go down and kill a few more of those fluffy mothers. So I tossed Becky (my 12 guage) in the back of my pick-up, swung by Bubba’s place, and off we went. So, any way, once we got the the park, Bubba and I hoped out of the truck and unloaded the guns. The park was as it all ways had been, a few bit’s of playground equipement, mostly rusted with a few bits of pain still clinging on for dear life. That wood thing was still there to, it looked like some kinda dome shaped pile of scrap wood with a big hole in the front, about 4 feet high, as always. After this quick survey of the land, Bubba and me hunkerd down and waited for Pretty soon, the cutest little squirel showed up. It’s tail was extra fluffy, and it’s little eyes just made you fell like you were looking at a character from Bambi or sometin. I wasn’t so keen on shooting this one, but I was pretty sure Becky wanted it dead, so I pointed ‘er right at it. I think that squirrel knew what was coming- it just stood there dead still with it’s hair standing on end, looked kinda like my cousin Ned when he used practiced his french-kiss on that light-socket. Becky was about to splatter Bambi’s little friend all over the oak tree behind him, when this voice interrupted her- it sounded kinda like Sean Connery. “Bloody hell boy, you musn’t shoot that squirrel. That’s the nessesary squirel.” The voice was coming from that strange little hovel. Bubba and me both looked over there, and this old man crawled out from the thing. This guy was real formal, he was wearing a tuxedo for one thing, and he had one of those fancy walking sticks, and white golves. Strangest of all, some how despite crawling around in that thing, he didn’t have a speck of dirt on him. “What the…?” said Bubba, more stupified then usualy. “I said you musn’t shoot that squirel. Its neccesary to the universe that it exists.” Well, Bubba and I didn’t no what he was talking about. So we just stared and him while he stared at him. Eventually I guess he musta gotten the idea that we had no idea what he was talking about, since he started to talk again. “Damn it, don’t you get it boy? Put down the gun. You should that squirrel and it’s the end of the world. It’s the end of everything; there won’t be squat left. “ he damn near growled those last words at us. “You mean if we shoot that squirrel, we gonna die?” Bubba asked. “No, you won’t die. You’ll just cease to exist. “ the old man was waving his cane around like crazy as he spoke. Sounded to me like he was crazier then Bubba’s uncle Emmett, who took it upon himself to becoming “The lord of the Bagel Kingdom” and went around rounding up all the toasters in the trailer park to make them “pay for their crimes against bagelanity”. I got the idea that maybe I should be pointing my gun at this old guy instead of the squirrel. As it turns out however, that probably wasn’t so smart. As I swung old Becky around, that frisky little fur ball got the idea that maybe he was still alive. I’ve never seen one of those things move so fast, and believe me, I’ve seen a lot of squirrels running. It went right under my truck, out the other side, and into the road faster then I knew what was happening. Of course it wasn’t quite fast enough- that Mac truck squished it real flat. Last thing I remember was that old guy saying “Oh, bloody hell.” And throwing his cane on the ground in defeat. Then, just like he said, everything disappeared. Well, except me, I’m still here. This place ain’t so bad, it roomier then my trailer, I think, can’t really tell. The only thing is I’m kinda board. There ain’t much to do here, nothing to shoot and nothing to shoot with. God damn squirrels.
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