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HitchhikingThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by Max Booth III | |
| Tuesday, 27 May 2008 | |
I know this story probably doesnt make any sense. I was deep into writer's block and just wrote whatever came to mind and these are the results. I'm not sure if this belongs in the humor section but I hate posting a story in the Miscellaneous Category. So here is a random story about a hitchhiker taking rides on some stories...
Hitchhiking
The cockroach slowed to a stop on the cracked concrete ceiling. He had to take a break or he feared his mind would collapse. God, he was so tired. He had been flying for three days straight and had just entered some building for shelter. He needed a rest stop for his worn out wings and this was it. The cockroach knew that if he failed to deliver the mail to the Almighty King he would suffer the consequences but he just couldn't do it. There was no buts about it. He was beat. The cockroach looked down and to his surprise saw a giant sleeping in a bunk. Fear immediately filled his small little body. Oh no, what if the giant would to wake up? Would he eat him? He surely hoped not. Giants were the most atrocious things in the whole cockroach alliance. They were just so ... so big! They could squash a hundred roaches in just one hand. That's two hundred with both! Giants were the bogeymen that lived in the cockroach's closets. But they lived in such good shelters and foolishly left behind all kinds of wonderfully delicious treats! Giants sure were scare, but they also helped a lot with the survival of the cockroach race. But this particular cockroach was still frozen like a adultery husband sneaking into his house late at night. Just tiptoes now. Or, tip cockroach toes ... ? But fast as a gunshot the Giant stirred awake. "Oh no!" the tiny little messenger squeaked, and scurried away. __________________________________
The criminal felt a sneeze coming to him as he woke up. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a nasty creepy crawler running on the ceiling. He hated those things just as bad as he hated the police. And that was saying a lot. Really. The criminal despised the police, the government, and everything they stood for. He had vowed his entire life on a spree of crimes, trying to bring down the system. But soon he had got caught up in drugs. Heroin, especially. And his vow of justifiable crimes turned into savage rampages, drug binges, prison time, and laying passed out in gutters. Now the criminal was in a small little bunk at a old time police station with only three cells. He was in some weird town that did everything old fashion. Well, they weren't Amish or anything, just like the town was something out of that movie Pleasantville. It seemed ... fake. Like something straight out of Hollywood. But the criminal was in some major trouble. This was his third strike and we all know what that means, right? Life. Spending the rest of worthless little life in a cell with a thousand other worthless ass raping souls. He did not want that to happen. I doubt anybody wants that to happen to them. So, the criminal stood up and went to the cell door. His shouts echoed down the narrow hall; "Hey! Hey, I need help down here, man! I think I'm gonna be sick! ****, man I'm gonna puke everywhere!" "Get sick in the toilet! That's what it's there for, ya stinking drunk!" the only cop in the small police station echoed back. "I would, man, but I took a **** and the whole thing's overflowing!" "Oh, goddamn it!" The criminal could hear the cop slamming down the newspaper on his desk and marching through the hall to his cell. But the criminal didn't give the cop any time to react as he grabbed him by the collar and drove the cop's head into the metal bars. "Like taking candy from a baby," the criminal snickered, as he fished the keys out of the cop's pocket and unlocked the door. Without letting any time to waste, the criminal grabbed the cop's big pistol and dashed out of the station. But because he was so overjoyed with the fact that he actually escaped he didn't noticed the huge yellow school bus crashing into him and pinning him into the building. __________________________________ Oh ****, the bus driver screamed in his mind. Oh God, please tell me I did not just hit that guy. Oh man, this is really bad. I'm gonna lose my job and I'll go to jail. No, wait, it isn't my fault. That stupid ass bratty kid, its his fault. Stupid troublemaker! The bus driver yelled at the kids in the back to shut their traps and stay seated. Then he stomped out of the bus and approached the front. The bus had crashed all the way through the police station and ran into some guy, pinning him to the wall. Luckily, though, the guy was still alive. "Oh my Gawd, man, are you alright?" the bus driver asked. "Alright?" the criminal exclaimed, "are you ******* nuts? Do I look alright to you? You ******* hit me! I'm going to die because of you! Do you ******* understand that?" The bus driver paced back and forth, his hands squeezing the top of his head. "Hey, man, I'm really sorry. I'll be right back, okay? I have to go and see if the kids are alright." "Yeah, they might have got HIT BY A BUS ALSO YOU ******* JACKASS!!!" "Yeah, yeah," the bus driver said, brushing him off and entering the bus again. It was a disaster on the bus. Kids with their teeth knocked out and some passed out, possibly dead. The bus driver glared at the troublemaker. __________________________________
The troublemaker never meant to be a troublemaker. It was fate, really. Or just super bad luck. You pick. Everyday somehow the troublemaker caused trouble to his always angry bus driver. It was always on accident, too. On this weird day, though, the troublemaker was sitting all the way in the back of the bus, taking part in a paper fight with his other peers. It was just his luck for his paper ball to fly out the window and the wind to bring it back in through the bus driver's window, smacking him in the face and causing him to jerk the steeling wheel to the right. And then CRASH!!! Fate made it's mark. Now the troublemaker was slumped in his seat, tears rolling down his cheek as the bus driver yelled at him. Screamed at him! The troublemaker blocked most of it out, though. The words he did catch was ‘you' ‘killed' and ‘brat'. He knew he was deep in trouble. He might go to little boys' prison. Oh no he couldn't deal with that. No way, man. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm so sorry." A couple minutes later the troublemaker left the bus and approached the man that was torn apart. "Umm ... sir?" "What? What the hell do you want?" the criminal snapped. "I'm really sorry. It's my fault he crashed the bus into you. I'm sorry." "You little brat!" the criminal shouted, and his skin started melting off. Before long the man's head was a giant lizard's. And then the lizard/criminal devoured the troublemaker whole.
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The cockroach was on death row. He had failed to reach the King in time and now he was going to die because of a short little rest stop. How ridiculous, huh? The noose was around his neck and the executioner asked if the cockroach had any last words. The cockroach replied with, "Does your shoes fit on your feet right?" But before any of them could do anything else the door was kicked open and John McClane came storming in with a torn white tank top, blood on his face, no shoes, and a black pistol. "Oh, if it isn't the cowboy!" the executioner exclaimed. "Well, yippie-kay-yay ************!" And shot the executioner in the head. He freed the cockroach and lit up a cigarette. John muttered, "Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs ..." and flicked the lighter shut. Copyright 2008 Max Booth III |
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| Last Updated ( Wednesday, 08 October 2008 ) |
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