My Story

    There were rabbits all around. I asked one of them his name. “Kent Peterson”, one of them replied. “That’s Kent with a T”, he added. I looked at him for a minute. I wondered what exactly he meant by that. I decided to introduce myself. “Hi, Kent. My name’s Jomothy Nixondurge”. He laughed. All of them laughed. They all looked at me square in the eyes and said in unison, “We want your soul”. I decided now would be a good time to run. Instead of running, I decided to grab my baseball bat I keep in my backpack. I closed my eyes and started swinging. WHACK! THUD! BLAMMERS! SKEENTOFFLE! SNEEEEEZE!!! Rabbits flew in every possible direction in the physical universe. They even flew in a few directions incomprehensible by modern man. My eyes were glowing red. I felt the hate pulsing through my veins. I needed this. We all needed this. Every other Blentraki this side of Wondercloud Happy City dreamed of a moment such as this, but few were so lucky. I was one of those few. After the nail files shed their tears for the last time, I blacked out. I woke up a few days later in a strange place. This feeling was very disorienting. I didn’t recognize anything about my surroundings. Before I knew it, there were creatures standing above me staring…thinking bad thoughts. I could feel their intentions weren’t friendly. I tried to lift my arms, but soon realized they were tied to the bed in which I was laying. As I looked around, I felt a very familiar feeling. The walls appeared to be dripping. Every once in awhile, they would swirl a bit. A felt sick to my stomach. Strange geometrical shapes laid themselves out in front of me in a magnificent array of colors and shapes. These creatures had drugged me. Of that I was sure. “Hello rainbow silicon Oswald ambushing the proprietary. You’re due for an autopsy in emergency room seven, six, five, western. Leaping every which wiggle tickler upon the highest reaches of outer Llamaness. Reach and and and touch faith. Please? Twinkle toes with star shining osteoporosis meat. Being ever so slightly limber from whence I came to be besides four-square geriatrics.”

    This went on for some time. Days, I would assume. Probably not though. All the while, I felt an electric field pulsing out of every pore in my body. This was madness. Demon fields and gravy stains, all blip-blapping and flip-flopping every which way, in every imaginable dimension. I thought for a moment about the milk in my fridge going bad. My laundry isn’t done. I haven’t showered in a few days. I always dwell on the negative. Did I buy cat food yet? I still haven’t gotten the sink fixed. The phone bill is due. I should buy staples. Whether or not rat king was still coming this way, I should probably wishle blanket the rest of his ratchet flenkage. All of this reminded me briefly of a road trip I took to Rhode Island. There were three of us sitting in the backseat and we were all extremely anxious for the adventure in which we were about to partake. None of us had hunted for bobcats before. Freshly milked cows were waiting hungrily as we pulled up to the bobcat farm. I opened the door as fast as I could and ran over with my cup in hand eagerly pulling on the cow’s hanging bits that would aid in my refreshment. I couldn’t take it any longer. I shoved a firecracker in the cow’s ear and ran as fast as I could to the entrance of the bobcat farm. There were hundreds of them strewn about the land. There were green ones, purple ones, Sonter ones, and even a few grey ones. This was amazing. I hadn’t been this happy in months. We were finally here after a 39 hour car ride. I hadn’t slept the entire time either out of excitement. I didn’t eat anything either. I was obviously watching my figure. The fashion show was coming up in just a few days. We wouldn’t want to cause a ruckus with the Wild Wonder Flutes. FIGURE IT OUT! I pulled out my rifle as I shook with anticipation. The rifle was well equipped. I painted the nodes all sorts of amazing green-dipped colors and flamboyant sinisters from the Lentils. No one else’s even looked close to as cool as mine. I felt like a real man, even though I was only 5. Only real men have flamboyant nodes. I rested the rifle against my shoulder and peered through my site for a juicy one. Bingo. There sat my prize, completely unaware of his or her near future, or lack thereof. I pulled the trigger. BLAMZOON! I missed? I’ve never missed. Decades of training down the drain. I felt like a complete failure to myself and the world. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Was I dreaming? This couldn’t be real. There’s no way this is real. I wiped my eyes and tried to shake it off. That didn’t really happen. I aimed my rifle again. He or she was directly in my line of site…no chance to miss this time. I fired again. BLEEMZORTED!!! I missed…again. Before the tears could start streaming down my face, I turned the rifle around and mounted the barrel in my mouth and pulled the trigger. BRONZE AGE!!! I missed…again. What was happening here? Surely this had to be a dream. I opened up my rifle as if it were a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Sure enough: 3 bullets missing. Something strange was going on and I needed to get to the bottom of it. The easiest way to get to the bottom of anything is with a rope and bug spray. I threw the anchor over the edge of the boat and waited for it to catch on anything to stop me in my tracks. It took a few seconds, but I soon felt the rope tighten until the boat came to a stop. I looked out at the vast ocean surrounding me. This really felt like home. Kings and Queens don’t feel this alive in their own castles. I turned my gaze southeast and hoped this was a good place to catch some dinner. I jumped in and quickly swam to the deepest part a few nautical miles wayward. It wasn’t long before I had my dinner in hand. I guess when it’s all said and done, it’s better to have been born with gills than to rely on carbon-based life forms for oxygenated saplings.

Uploaded 06/17/2008
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