Application form:
For this month's awesome application form, write a critical article story about the holocaust of the Colorado potato beetle initiated by the potato god.
Also draw a picture of the potato god delivering a speech at old mcdonald's ruins in honour of all the fallen chips.
Prologue: I know you're all lazy fags, but try to read it carefully. (and pay attention to my alliterational style) I actually put effort in this.
Also, I took the liberty to scrap a few parts of the form since I started writing this before having thoroughly read the objective ;)
Memoires of a coward who hid in the bushes, spying on an obese woman and her personal slave and did nothing while it all happened
Who could have ever foreseen this?
Surely, Grandpa McFinklestein kept rambling on about the potential threat this beetle was to our crops, but no-one would ever have predicted this.
It all started some weeks ago...
Shelly and farmhand Jesse were enjoying a small meal in the densely overgrown remains of the old shack. They'd just finished their work in the barn, stacking hay for the upcoming winter. The knapsack they brought contained a congregation of delicious treats, including but not limited to three McDonalds quarter pounders with extra pickles, two chicken breasts, a bucket of KFC fried chicken with their new patented 'WaterMelon Sauce', half a gallon of FreshlyFresh Sarsaparilla and Ma Beth's homemade mayonaise to top it off. Everything seemed innocent on the McFinkle-Haye farmland...
Suddenly, Shelly stopped eating. At first, it seemed it was one of these cases where the muscle around her jaw and neckline just gave up, so Jesse whipped out the spoon. This time, however, the sack of fat Shelly was didn't immediately start moaning, indicating her need of food, but lay on her back. This horrifying sight of an obscenely fat woman, huffing and puffing in her lack of oxygen, the wobbly globs of fat wrinkling worrisomely around the wary wagon her body was, frightened Jesse. As Jesse desperately called for help, a peculiar sound rose from the tummy of the beast, adding to his terror.
“HELP, SOMETHING’S HAPPENING HERE! I NEED A LARGE BUCKET OF BEN & JERRY’S CORE DOUGH-BLE WHAMMY ICE CREAM, AND I NEED IT NOW!!!”
Surely no-one would have heard his hopeless attempts to reach the one thing that always cheered Shelly up. Meanwhile, the terrifying sound emerging from her belly grew more loud and more violent. It… It sounded like her belly could burst any minute! Shelly was clearly in great trouble, and the look on her face only revealed her worrisome state! To add to the severity of it all, the beautiful, young lady’s pulsation of the heart grew in frequency and her respiration became more faint!
“SHELLY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! Oh god… I am
SO getting fired for this! I dare not even imagine what Old McFinklestein will do to me when he hears his beloved Apple of the eye has had an attack like this!”
The horrible noise sounded like it could reach its climax any minute and grew louder by the second! Farmhand Jesse finally decided to be a man.. He stood up, walked up to the starboard side of the colossal woman’s body and put his ear against the membrane which held the abomination together. He was quite sure that this very layer of sealing skin protected him from the depths of Hell itself. What he heard was quite surprising, actually. Instead of the cry of the seven sirens, he heard ‘Elektronik Supersonik by Zlad’ Was it Shelly who had stolen his walkman in a quick craving for a snack? Had it been her who had denied having stolen this beloved object for such a long time? What an epiphany!
Struck by rage, Jesse grabbed for his Victorinox mod. 8 knife and chose the belly-opener tool. Without any sign of hesitation or remorse, he planted the belly-opener tool three inches through the leather-like pelt.
“THAT WILL TEACH YOU, YOU OBESE WHORE! MAKING ME FEED YOU GROUND UP HAMBURGERS WITH A SPOON FOR THREE HOURS ON END!”
But then… There it was! An insect-like creature emerged from the belly of the beast itself!
This was one of those notorious Potato Beetles old Finkle kept muttering about! The gargantuan bug flashed its every leg around in a ferocious fashion, hitting Jesse in the back, bruising the fat and breaking the third vertebra in the thoracic curve!
Even the martial trance he had gotten himself into could not save him! Smitten by the foul creature, the defeated Jesse crawled back to the knapsack and died there, eating a bucketload of fried chicken…
This was what Finklestein had been rambling on about, this was what the cryptic message ‘Watch out, lass, some day, that putrid cyst you’ve got in your lower abdomen will turn out to be a malignant monster and kill someone!’ had signified all the time!
But in the end… who listens to an old man?
Last edited by Arglax; May 1, 2012 at 06:22 PM.
