UGR - Gather up the Guns :: SPECIAL BOSH MAN EDITION!!Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH at 2007-08-22 21:35:55 EDT
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“What’re you thinkin’ about grampa?”
Bernie stopped rocking in his chair and suddenly realized how quiet it was. He leaned back and wondered how long his grandson, Will, had been watching him. The inquisitive youth amused Bernie. He looked over at Will and smiled.
“Oh just about an old friend of mine..”
“Is it Stills?”
“Now how do you know about Stills? I don’t believe I’ve told you that story yet.”
“Grammie said I was about old enough to hear the story. She said you love telling it and thought it would be a good idea, today being the 50th anniversary and all..”
“Well, my boy, today is your lucky day then!”
Bernie reached for his pipe and took a couple long thoughtful draws as he collected his thoughts. It had been years since he openly spoke about the loss of his friend Stills, and he certainly wanted to take his time and share the experience with his grandson. Bernie would have to choose his words carefully so as not to upset the boy, but at the same time, be stern in his message so Will could reflect back on the story in his times of hardship.
Will came back from getting his blanket and Bernie began:
“It was a hot but otherwise unremarkable July afternoon when Stills and I, not much older than you are now, hitched a ride down to the beach. Once we got there we were surprised to find that the beach was completely empty, except for one man.
“By the looks of him he had been in the sun for 6 days in a row without any sunscreen. I’m telling you he was as red as a stop sign. He was just lying there, seemingly lifeless.”
Bernie stopped and took another pull from his pipe, beads of sweat were gathering on his brow.
“We got within 10 feet of him when all of a sudden he sprung up into the air. You should’ve seen Stills’ face!
As it turns out, the man we saw frying himself up on the beach was Satan. He took out a couple hot dogs from his picnic basket and told us to enter them in the local food competition as ‘Satan’s Daggits’”
Will seemed confused, but allowed his grandfather to continue.
“We entered the Satan’s Daggit in the competition and won a million dollars. With the money we hired 15 hookers and set them on fire and made them into Satan’s Daggits. We entered the ‘Satan’s Hooker Daggit’ into cooking competitions all across the nation and made millions upon millions of dollars.
“I decided to call it quits at age 20. I took what money I had left over and started an accounting firm. Only instead of doing peoples taxes, we had oriental women give out free handjobs. Needless to say, the project was a failure.
“I took a trip to Micronesia to visit Stills, but when I got there his guard dog hold me to hit the road. But I knew the secret password, FUMBLE NUGGETS, and magically his dog died.”
Will was crying out of control at this point. Bernie sympathized with the boy, but decided to continue with his story.
“After I muttered the secret password, I farted on the dogs face and lit up a cigarette. Stills was mondo pissed by now so I told him to fuck off. I think he died later that day.”
Will’s grandmother was standing in the corner nodding in agreement. Will passed out from crying too much. Bernie seized the opportunity and yelled:
Will evaporated into a fine mist, Bernie took a crap in his wife’s mouth as she gathered up her guns.
Stills came out of left field and gave Satan a high five.
I jacked off twice while writing this.