WARNING: The following material is extremely graphic in nature. Readers please be advised. The author is not responsible for any deaths resulting from and/or caused by the reading of this story. If, after reading this, you feel a sudden, uncontrollable desire to kill yourself, your neighbors, your relatives who are staying over for the weekend, or any of your pets please be advised, the author will not take the fall for you. He will not go to jail again, not for you, not for anybody, not after what happened with Bubba. However, if you do decide to brutally murder people anyway, and you are going to broadcast the murder(s) over the internet, the author would appriciate a URL link to the site. Please be advised. ~!@#$%^&*()_+~!@#$%^&*()_+ What Happens To Little Boys When They Stay Up Past Their Bedtime By: El Rutt, Master of the Funk "Formatting" By: Rags, His Shoes Are Untied +_)(*&^%$#@!~+_)(*&^%$#@!~ The light shined brightly on the basket of avocados resting quaintly in the clearing, hundreds and hundreds of miles from anything significant to this story. * * * "So, what do we do now?" asked a character as yet unnamed. "I don't know, Bob." Responded a second party. Ah, there we go a name. "Well, I guess we have nothing to do here, then." Interjected a third person of undetermined race or sex. "." Stated an unknown character from an obscure anime flick nobody has ever heard of. "Dude, who the hell is that?" questioned the previously mention second party's friend who was visiting for the weekend making him the fourth guy. "Beats the hell out of me." Replied a new fifth guy (Author's note: No wait, it's the sixth guy, the unknown character from an obscure anime flick nobody has ever heard of was the fourth, also the previously mention second party's friend who was visiting for the weekend should have been the fifth guy. I think.) Anyway, he (Editor's note: The sixth guy) shall now be referred to as "Dude". "Maybe he belongs to that guy." A brand-spanking new seventh character pointed to... yet another guy. "Hey, isn't that that one ninja/samurai/cross-dresser from that well-known anime whose name eludes me right now?" pondered a eighth, count 'em, eighth person whom looked suspiciously like the first character, "Bob", but wasn't. "I think it is. Let's go ask him about him." Said the ninth character in the story of increasingly confusing proportions. The nine people, plus seventeen other guys who have yet to have any dialogue yet (Editor's note: That was redundant), walked over to the other guy who resembled that one ninja/samurai/cross-dresser from that well-known anime whose name eludes right now. "Excuse me," asked (Author's note: I realize I have already used the verb 'asked' already (Editor's note: Redundant), but there are just to many characters to assign each one a different verb) the eleventh person who, though careful manipulation, bypassed the tenth, "But do you know who this man is?" he pointed a toe (Author's note: he had lost both his arms in nam) at the unknown character from an obscure anime flick nobody has ever heard of. "" replied the other guy who resembled that one ninja/samurai/cross-dresser from that well-known anime whose name eludes me right now; actually he needs a number, so he'll be the twenty-seventh guy (Author's note: 9+17=26). "What?" Queried the twelfth man who wasn't gay but was still a big fan of The Village People none the less. "" responded the other guy who resembled that one ninja/samurai/cross-dresser from that well-known anime whose name eludes me right now, who I have assigned the number twenty-seven, in a higher pitch, indicating he was now, somewhat, distraught over this line of questioning. "Sorry, dude, but we, like, don't speak French or whatever, all right, dude?" the thirteenth guy dressed in surfer duds with a brain the size of mustard explained. "I though my name was dude!" exclaimed the sixth guy who, until recently, was referred to as "Dude". "No, you're still referred to as 'Dude'. That guy just calls everyone dude." Explained the fourteenth guy who had no distinguishing features what so ever. "Oh okay, I get it." Replied the sixth guy who now, once again, be referred to as "Dude". A twenty-eighth person entered the seen (Editor's note: The preceding word should be spell "scene".) (Author's note: No, it's "seen", that is the name of the club they are all at, "The Seen") (Editor's note: Well, maybe you should have specified that in the topic sentence.) (Author's note: Well, maybe you should shut up and quit telling me how to do my job.) (Editor's note: Listen bitch, do you want to take this outside?) (Author's note: All right fine, let's go!) (Publisher's note: Hey, if you two don't quit it right now your both fired.) (Publisher's note: Security!) (Author's note: Now that they're disposed of I can now-) (Publisher's note: Security has restrained the author and editor, and has seated them in opposite ends of the room. The story will now continue as... uh... 'normal', please excuse the interruption.) (Editor's note: Jackass.) ANYWAY, the twenty-eighth man enters "The Seen" along with three other guys in cop uniforms. These four guys arrest everyone in the club, including the sixty-nine other people, who were not in any way, shape or form, involved with the first twenty-seven people, for illegal possession of whatever they happened to have back at the station. And lo the scene in "The Seen" ended. * * * The basket of avocados still sat in the clearing, alone and scared. * * * In a room, in a house, on a hill, in the country, next to Burma, a young couple made love. They were going at it like dogs. It was the nastiest fucking sex one could possibly imagine. (Editor's note: I bet I could think up some nastier shit than that.) (Author's note: Well it's the nastiest sex I can imagine, you pervert.) She screamed so loud as he pounded his substantial amount of cock into her, harder and harder, faster and faster, until... Until... (Dramatic pause) Her father busted into the room. "Hey, I'm trying to watch some fucking television, what the fuck is wrong with you two- Oh my DOG!!!" (Editor's note: Should read "GOD") (Author's note: No dude, fuck God. God is gay. It's "DOG".) (Editor's note: Oh yeah, sorry.) "Daddy I can explain-" Mr. Fuzzybutt, the afore mentioned father and not one of the well over one hundred people from the previous 'seen' bent over. "Look, pumpkin, Daddy found a penny!" "That's... uh... good Daddy." "Good afternoon, Johnny!" "Uh... Hi Mr. Fuzzybutt." "You kids have fun, Okay, but it keep down, please." "Okay Daddy." Mr. Fuzzybutt closed the door and left, but not quite in that order. "Well that could have been at lot more awkward." "Yeah, I know." The couple, once again, fucked each other like a couple of schoolgirls. * * * And still the avocados remained. * * * Three guys in various uniforms sat on a bench, in the park, next to an anime character who was indeed quite important and significant and yet came from a totally different series than the previously mentioned anime characters whose title still eludes me. Suddenly, the anime character with the incredibly long, descriptive name stood up and wandered off, leaving the story in the hands of the other three men. "I notice you are wearing a baseball uniform." The man not in a baseball uniform and not the other guy who has yet to speak observed. "Yup," The man in the baseball uniform said. "Do you play baseball then?" inquired the man who wasn't wearing a baseball uniform and not the other guy who still after three lines has not said a word. "Yup," The man in the baseball uniform said. "What team do you play for?" asked the man who spoke in the first and third lines of dialogue for this section. (Editor's note: Why not just call him Bill or something) (Author's note: Very well.) "Can't you read?" the man in the baseball uniform indicated his jersey. "No," replied Bill or something. (Editor's note: Good enough.) "What a dumbass," the man who, up to this point, has had no lines, remarked. * * * Alas, there was great immobility in the land of the avocado. * * * MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: I apologize for the lack of puns but it's so hard to make one that's "punny". Besides I have a haddock. I'm full of anchor. I know you might be saying, "Abalone, you're just being shellfish". * * * MESSAGE FROM THE EDITOR: Hey, wait a second, the author stole all those puns from material on Dr. Demento. * * * MESSAGE FROM THE PUBLISHER: Stolen material? Fuck, now I have pay royalties. Stupid dumbass author fucked up again. Better end the story now before it goes any further, resulting in me having to pay more money. THE END This is my first time writing one of these, ever. Tell me what you think. Of course I did edit the "A Whacked-Out Piece Of Curd" written by Rags. But that is beside the point. Is there a point? No one knows. The author wishes thank Rags for getting him into this sort of crap. The writing of this would not have occured had Rags not sent him his story to edit. This is dedicated to him. Thank you, "Speedy". The Sunburst Project, Week 9 http://www.chaoseed.com/btr/sbp/ 5/25/00