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- Jan 2, 2007
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Since people have been asking about where I got my forum name, I shall be posting the short story that I wrote about a year ago entitled 'The Croutons of Death'. WARNING: Prepare to say 'WTF'. Prepare to say it ALOT.
THE CROUTONS OF DEATH
BY KADATH BIRD
“God dammit! I have not been giving you guilt all day” Screamed the father to the child. “God dammit! I have not been stealing your chicken wings!” screamed the father to the fat kid. “God dammit! Stop barking or I will rip out your voice box!” screamed the father to the cat, who had an operation to have its vocal cords swapped with those of a dog.
Needless to say, the father was doing a lot of screaming. In fact, he screamed so much that night, that his screams all came together to form a mob. That mob then went over to the nearest mental institution and initiated what the news would later call ‘The howler monkey holocaust.’ The screams agitated the insane people SO MUCH that they all mutated into howler monkeys plugged into amplifiers. Everyone in the county then went deaf, and some people even exploded. To this day, the screams are on the FBI’s top most wanted.
Every family has their problems. Some families’ problems are more serious than others. The family I shall be telling you about in this tale has more problems than most. They are probably one of the most bizarre of nuclear families, and they are one of the few that are prone to go ‘Chernobyl’ on us. The mother is a vegetable, and has not said a word in 5 years. She went into this state during her trip to Canada. There was when she learned the horrible, traumatizing, childhood ruining truth, that the Disney heart attack was indeed phony. She had stumbled upon the MSDAP, an organization of Nazi Moose. They were celebrating the anniversary of the day they had found Walt Disney being pushed into their territory by the horrible northern winds, only to be consumed by their leader. Human eyes were not meant to see this sort of thing. She lays, well, stands in bed all day and the father has to feed her through a tube. However, due to his laziness, he just feeds her twig and pinecone smoothies. His Mistress hangs around a lot, though they never actually do anything in their affair but yell at each other, which I’m pretty sure would be the state of his relationship with the mother. He himself has a world class screaming voice, he’s tall, thinner than a piece of a paper, and has the uncanny ability to teleport behind you and use the gloves of eternal strangling with a +5 neck snap multiplier. He has 3 children. One is simply labeled ‘The child,’ the other is labeled ‘The fat kid,’ and the third is ‘She thing.’ Despite the misleading name, ‘She thing’ is actually a male. The only daughter is ‘The child.’ Proves how much the parents were paying attention. The children have no special attributes other than ‘grand annoyance’ which affects everyone within a 6 state radius.
The father just stands there, staring at the child with an awkward glare. The child stares back, but begins twitching. The child then bursts into flames, screaming like a rabbit. The dad cheers in triumph, the third staring contest he won that day, though he hopes the neighbours will forgive him for his daughter burning down their home. The father never dares hold a staring contest in his own home; he might melt his Pink Floyd records. After the house is in ashes, he searches for the child and dusts her off than takes her home. When he gets there, he notices an odd smell in the air. “What is that? It smells as if the Chernobyl cloud forgot to take a shower!” He quickly realizes that she-thing is melting inside of a plastic bubble. The father yells “Quick! Save the Pink Floyd albums” and the other kids scramble to collect all the valuables. The smell of burning plastic and flesh quickly alerts the neighbours across the street, the only people on the street who have yet to die of arson. “Oh. My. God. That’s four houses in one day!! Quick! Put the kids in the briefcases and run! THEY’RE COMING OVER HERE!!!” but before they could leave the door, the father, fat kid and the child block them. “Where do you think you are going? You have to harbor us while our house burns down!.” The night that followed would be their last, but thankfully, it would have nothing to do with fire. The police were tired of seeing fire. They now shoot anything that is red, orange, or yellow just in their hate of seeing 10 fires a week.
There are many evil things in this universe. But some things just ooze evil. Like that guy with the world’s largest sweat pores. Concentrated evil oozes out of him, but that’s not important. That night at the neighbours house, the most evil thing in the world would be in the form of a salad. Many people may argue that salads are evil by nature, especially the ‘bleu cheese’ variety, but it wouldn’t be the salad itself that is evil so much as what was put in it. The father was out alone, shopping at his usual spot, ‘Pedocidal maniac central’ to find a new poison to put in his cooking. His kids had built immunity to arsenic and laudanum. He was giving up hope when he finally found a box of croutons. A deliciously evil looking box entitled ‘THE FABLED CROUTONS OF DEATH.’ He had never heard of these fabled croutons, but they must be powerful. He took them home and quickly began work on the dinner salad, completely forgetting the roast moose and glass tacos with 100% platypus meat. The salad was ready, and he sat at the table grinning maliciously at his family and the neighbours. He was starting to get pissed, because none of them were eating. They were just bickering. “Stop using mum as a scratching post!”, “Stop kicking the air in the balls!”, “The air doesn’t have any you moron!” Eventually the father screamed “SHUT THE F*** UP AND EAT ALREADY!!!” he then jammed his fork in a crouton and a piece of lettuce and shoved It in his mouth, practically choking himself on the fork. He then fell over onto the table, purple foam jetting out of his mouth. The kids began bickering again. But then, an escaped convict burst into their home. He also happened to be a witch doctor. He made the dad a zombie, said “Enjoy your pear, my little seasoning salts for I shall shrink your fingers heads soon enough” and left. The zombie dad then forced the croutons down the throats of everyone, before standing in a victory stance and screaming “WHY! WHY, GOD, WHY IS MY FAMILY BRAINLESS! I’M HUNGRYYYYYYYYYY!.” He then shot himself, but realizing that he was undead, he just got depressed and went on to be the world’s leading zombie psychologist. Zombie Dad has helped many zombies, big and small, get back on track and eating brains in no time. He won an award for ‘Zombie of the year,’ but was arrested for eating the brains of the man who was issuing the award.
THE MORAL OF THE STORY: YOUR DAD IS A FREAKING LUNATIC. KILL HIM BEFORE HE KILLS YOU WITH AN EVIL SALAD!
P.S. There was one survivor, can you guess who? :O
THE CROUTONS OF DEATH
BY KADATH BIRD
“God dammit! I have not been giving you guilt all day” Screamed the father to the child. “God dammit! I have not been stealing your chicken wings!” screamed the father to the fat kid. “God dammit! Stop barking or I will rip out your voice box!” screamed the father to the cat, who had an operation to have its vocal cords swapped with those of a dog.
Needless to say, the father was doing a lot of screaming. In fact, he screamed so much that night, that his screams all came together to form a mob. That mob then went over to the nearest mental institution and initiated what the news would later call ‘The howler monkey holocaust.’ The screams agitated the insane people SO MUCH that they all mutated into howler monkeys plugged into amplifiers. Everyone in the county then went deaf, and some people even exploded. To this day, the screams are on the FBI’s top most wanted.
Every family has their problems. Some families’ problems are more serious than others. The family I shall be telling you about in this tale has more problems than most. They are probably one of the most bizarre of nuclear families, and they are one of the few that are prone to go ‘Chernobyl’ on us. The mother is a vegetable, and has not said a word in 5 years. She went into this state during her trip to Canada. There was when she learned the horrible, traumatizing, childhood ruining truth, that the Disney heart attack was indeed phony. She had stumbled upon the MSDAP, an organization of Nazi Moose. They were celebrating the anniversary of the day they had found Walt Disney being pushed into their territory by the horrible northern winds, only to be consumed by their leader. Human eyes were not meant to see this sort of thing. She lays, well, stands in bed all day and the father has to feed her through a tube. However, due to his laziness, he just feeds her twig and pinecone smoothies. His Mistress hangs around a lot, though they never actually do anything in their affair but yell at each other, which I’m pretty sure would be the state of his relationship with the mother. He himself has a world class screaming voice, he’s tall, thinner than a piece of a paper, and has the uncanny ability to teleport behind you and use the gloves of eternal strangling with a +5 neck snap multiplier. He has 3 children. One is simply labeled ‘The child,’ the other is labeled ‘The fat kid,’ and the third is ‘She thing.’ Despite the misleading name, ‘She thing’ is actually a male. The only daughter is ‘The child.’ Proves how much the parents were paying attention. The children have no special attributes other than ‘grand annoyance’ which affects everyone within a 6 state radius.
The father just stands there, staring at the child with an awkward glare. The child stares back, but begins twitching. The child then bursts into flames, screaming like a rabbit. The dad cheers in triumph, the third staring contest he won that day, though he hopes the neighbours will forgive him for his daughter burning down their home. The father never dares hold a staring contest in his own home; he might melt his Pink Floyd records. After the house is in ashes, he searches for the child and dusts her off than takes her home. When he gets there, he notices an odd smell in the air. “What is that? It smells as if the Chernobyl cloud forgot to take a shower!” He quickly realizes that she-thing is melting inside of a plastic bubble. The father yells “Quick! Save the Pink Floyd albums” and the other kids scramble to collect all the valuables. The smell of burning plastic and flesh quickly alerts the neighbours across the street, the only people on the street who have yet to die of arson. “Oh. My. God. That’s four houses in one day!! Quick! Put the kids in the briefcases and run! THEY’RE COMING OVER HERE!!!” but before they could leave the door, the father, fat kid and the child block them. “Where do you think you are going? You have to harbor us while our house burns down!.” The night that followed would be their last, but thankfully, it would have nothing to do with fire. The police were tired of seeing fire. They now shoot anything that is red, orange, or yellow just in their hate of seeing 10 fires a week.
There are many evil things in this universe. But some things just ooze evil. Like that guy with the world’s largest sweat pores. Concentrated evil oozes out of him, but that’s not important. That night at the neighbours house, the most evil thing in the world would be in the form of a salad. Many people may argue that salads are evil by nature, especially the ‘bleu cheese’ variety, but it wouldn’t be the salad itself that is evil so much as what was put in it. The father was out alone, shopping at his usual spot, ‘Pedocidal maniac central’ to find a new poison to put in his cooking. His kids had built immunity to arsenic and laudanum. He was giving up hope when he finally found a box of croutons. A deliciously evil looking box entitled ‘THE FABLED CROUTONS OF DEATH.’ He had never heard of these fabled croutons, but they must be powerful. He took them home and quickly began work on the dinner salad, completely forgetting the roast moose and glass tacos with 100% platypus meat. The salad was ready, and he sat at the table grinning maliciously at his family and the neighbours. He was starting to get pissed, because none of them were eating. They were just bickering. “Stop using mum as a scratching post!”, “Stop kicking the air in the balls!”, “The air doesn’t have any you moron!” Eventually the father screamed “SHUT THE F*** UP AND EAT ALREADY!!!” he then jammed his fork in a crouton and a piece of lettuce and shoved It in his mouth, practically choking himself on the fork. He then fell over onto the table, purple foam jetting out of his mouth. The kids began bickering again. But then, an escaped convict burst into their home. He also happened to be a witch doctor. He made the dad a zombie, said “Enjoy your pear, my little seasoning salts for I shall shrink your fingers heads soon enough” and left. The zombie dad then forced the croutons down the throats of everyone, before standing in a victory stance and screaming “WHY! WHY, GOD, WHY IS MY FAMILY BRAINLESS! I’M HUNGRYYYYYYYYYY!.” He then shot himself, but realizing that he was undead, he just got depressed and went on to be the world’s leading zombie psychologist. Zombie Dad has helped many zombies, big and small, get back on track and eating brains in no time. He won an award for ‘Zombie of the year,’ but was arrested for eating the brains of the man who was issuing the award.
THE MORAL OF THE STORY: YOUR DAD IS A FREAKING LUNATIC. KILL HIM BEFORE HE KILLS YOU WITH AN EVIL SALAD!
P.S. There was one survivor, can you guess who? :O
