Fairy Tale Friday 25
Rev.Richard Skull gets someone to read it to you!
Once upon
a time, there was an angry ice cream man named Dave, who hated many
things - people who paid with pennies, the song that his truck played,
but most of all, he hated children.
The little mother fuckers would come tearing up, barking orders, and he'd hand them their cones and take their disgusting, sticky coins. Every day was a nonstop parade of runny noses, dirty fingernails, grimy faces and forced pleasantness as the heinous little trolls' hunger for sweets was eternal and insatiable. God damn it he hated those little shits so much.
When the circus came to town, Dave set up his truck outside. He was ready to go home after a long night breathing in carnival fumes and elephant farts, when he heard a tapping on the counter. A voice called up from below, "Any chance I could get a butterscotch sundae before you close? Butterscotch makes me so happy I forget about my corns."
Dave looked down to see not a snivelling, hyperactive little miserable sack of shit, but a midget in a bowler hat and a red bow-tie. Midgets were pleasing to him, with their weird little cocktail frank fingers and squeaky voices, so he made a sundae and handed it down. "On the house," he said.
"Because you have done me this kindness," said the midget, "I bestow upon you the Midget's Blessing. May satisfaction always be within your reach!" The strange little man tipped his hat, and said, "I hate the rude little bastards too," and disappeared into the night.
The next day, the sound of his chimes grated his nerves like a long hair wound tightly around his scrotum. He was SO ANGRY, he did not see the little pecker on his bicycle until it was too late. There was a thud, and Dave thought to himself, "I guess I'm going to jail."
But when he inspected the grill, instead of a pulpy mash of bones and freckly flesh and teeth, he found only a popped balloon and a pile of hamburger meat! The disembodied yam-like face of the magical, ice-cream loving midget floated to the front of his memory. When another little snotnosed doofus came blundering up with crumply dollars in its fist, he punched it in the noses and found himself in possession of a delicious Baconator!
Dave suddenly remembered how much he hated that bitch from the check cashing place.
And his next door neighbor, who walked around half naked in her backyard but acted all scandalized when he looked.
And his ex-wife. And her new boyfriend, the fucking ski instructor.
Baconators, all of them!
No consequences, ever, no bullshit from anyone and no more sticky quarters. Total satisfaction was never more than a midget's armspan away. He lived happily ever after.
The little mother fuckers would come tearing up, barking orders, and he'd hand them their cones and take their disgusting, sticky coins. Every day was a nonstop parade of runny noses, dirty fingernails, grimy faces and forced pleasantness as the heinous little trolls' hunger for sweets was eternal and insatiable. God damn it he hated those little shits so much.
When the circus came to town, Dave set up his truck outside. He was ready to go home after a long night breathing in carnival fumes and elephant farts, when he heard a tapping on the counter. A voice called up from below, "Any chance I could get a butterscotch sundae before you close? Butterscotch makes me so happy I forget about my corns."
Dave looked down to see not a snivelling, hyperactive little miserable sack of shit, but a midget in a bowler hat and a red bow-tie. Midgets were pleasing to him, with their weird little cocktail frank fingers and squeaky voices, so he made a sundae and handed it down. "On the house," he said.
"Because you have done me this kindness," said the midget, "I bestow upon you the Midget's Blessing. May satisfaction always be within your reach!" The strange little man tipped his hat, and said, "I hate the rude little bastards too," and disappeared into the night.
The next day, the sound of his chimes grated his nerves like a long hair wound tightly around his scrotum. He was SO ANGRY, he did not see the little pecker on his bicycle until it was too late. There was a thud, and Dave thought to himself, "I guess I'm going to jail."
But when he inspected the grill, instead of a pulpy mash of bones and freckly flesh and teeth, he found only a popped balloon and a pile of hamburger meat! The disembodied yam-like face of the magical, ice-cream loving midget floated to the front of his memory. When another little snotnosed doofus came blundering up with crumply dollars in its fist, he punched it in the noses and found himself in possession of a delicious Baconator!
Dave suddenly remembered how much he hated that bitch from the check cashing place.
And his next door neighbor, who walked around half naked in her backyard but acted all scandalized when he looked.
And his ex-wife. And her new boyfriend, the fucking ski instructor.
Baconators, all of them!
No consequences, ever, no bullshit from anyone and no more sticky quarters. Total satisfaction was never more than a midget's armspan away. He lived happily ever after.