NOTE: I am well aware of many things, some of which are that this work is very sloppy. My grammar is pretty good, but not in terms of commas, spacing, quotations, and paragraphing. I'll fix it. Maybe. I am also aware that this work is VERY stupid, and that is intentional. If you like it, good, if you don't, move on. I just want to gauge interest. I think there should be more funny stuff, and if I should continue. Feel free to comment at Jivemuffin@aol.com. Oh and if you want to steal material, you may steal as long as it's not published anywhere. That means you may tell a joke to your friends and pass it off as your own. You may NOT post it anywhere and credit yourself. I will hunt you down and tell child services what you did. So without further ado, my little story.
I
This time last week, I was having a good day. I was making my way down Taff Avenue to my friendly neighborhood fence with a bag of goodies. They were gifts from my good friends, the Bumblesons. I had been doing plenty of business with them throughout the years.
Earlier that night I had decided to visit their not-so-humble home, eager to test their new security system. Former Mechanists now work solely in the security business, improving on their old technologies. Long gone are the days of bomb shooting mouths, the Mechanists had little foresight on that one. Constantly throwing bombs is not practical...I found it entertaining to watch my target homes reducing themselves to rubble.
They focus on alarm technology only these days, as people seemed to be turned off by clanking machines that talked like Droopy the Dog. And it's none of your business as to why I know the Droopy the Dog. After all, no one asks why Gilver, the man in the shipping business at the warehouse, has lyrics from Old Man River in his journal. You know. Tote that barge, lift that bale. And knowing Broadway doesn't make me gay, not that there's anything wrong with that. Anyways, I digress.
Basically there was a large tripwire field near their main safe...they keep all their valuables in one place, of course. Near the field there was a power source, which obviously attached the wires to alarms. So I turned off the source with a switch and cracked the safe. I love the Bumblesons!
So I leave to my fence with this heavy bag and all of a sudden there's a familiar voice behind me.
"Garrett," it said.
"Yes Satan?" I replied and turned around to see one of my Keeper "friends."
"Oh, I thought you were someone else," I said with a sneer.
"I have brought someone to you. He will be trained by you," said the Keeper.
The audacity! "Why should I?" I asked, wondering if he could scream if I cut out his tongue and shoved it up his ass.
"It is written," was his expected reply. They knew exactly how to piss me off. Whenever I save the world they just say, oh, that was supposed to happen. It's no big deal. So I said "Did you get to the part in your precious book where the Keeper has his knees caved in?"
"There is no such thing written," he replied.
"Oh, so I guess this won't hurt," I said as I swung my blackjack toward his knees. Instead of the satisfying crunch I expected to hear I heard a high pitched "Mmmph!"
"So, your knees would mock me!" I screamed and bashed repeatedly at the noisy knees. Cries of "Take that, knees!" and "You stupid knee!" and "We are the knights who say Knee!" rang throughout the alleyways. Suddenly the right knee grabbed my blackjack and swallowed it. Before I could grab a fire arrow to poke the knee with, the Keeper's robe opened and a somewhat bloodied, somewhat stupid looking fat boy walked out.
"What's the idea?" he asked.
"This is your new charge. I will leave you now. Train him well, for he will save your life." And with that the Keeper vanished into shadow.
"I have to poop!" whined the kid.
"Shut up!" I yelled.
"I have to poop I have to poop I have to poop I have to poop I have to poop!"
I grabbed his throat and tried to pick him up but he must've weighed a ton. "Alright!" I breathed in his face menacingly. I blindfolded him and took his sweaty, piggy hand. "Come on."
This was turning out to be a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day.
II
As the kid had expelled his bowels in the noisiest way imaginable, I thought upon the Keeper's words. Their warnings had proven true in the past. How could this disgusting being become a good enough thief to save me? Perhaps as a human shield? I doubt he would feel an arrow. But it was not an acceptable risk. He would have to be taught. With no end to his foul emanations in sight, I prepared a test for him.
I decided to start with sneaking...luckily the Keepers had outfitted him with black clothes. I arranged my lights so that some areas were dark enough that an amateur thief could move unseen quite easily, with a candy as the target. That'd give the demon-pig an incentive. I set up a lockpick demonstration as well, with a very simple lock. A few minutes after I had finished, his foul noises ended and he emerged triumphant.
I clapped for him and his smile turned into a very satisfying grimace. "You're mean!" he said. I smiled and walked up to him. I pointed and said "Hey, it's a fat kid! Hey fatty-fatty-fat fat. Fat fat fatty-fat fat-fat! Faaaaaaaattttyyyyy! Wanna candy?"
"Thanks!" he said and took it from my hand. "Do you want another?" I asked. He nodded violently, his mouth full of food. I pointed to the one I had planted. "If you can get it without me seeing you, it's yours." So he headed toward the dark area. I could see him quite easily, but I can see extremely well in the dark. Even so, this kid stuck out like a roast pig on a buffet table. I put my head in my hands. Even with my eyes closed I still heard his laboured breathing. I grabbed his collar as he neared the candy.
"Hey!" he yelled angrily. "You'll get it if you can pick this lock," I said as I yanked him over to the table. I had him watch as I inserted the flat headed pick in the lock, then the serrated pick and turned them until the lock clicked open. I relocked it and handed him the picks. I watched in agony as his sausage-fingers fumbled with the picks in several unsuccessful attempts to even enter the lock. Eventually he dropped them. I breathed deep and suddenly a thought entered my head.
He didn't wash his hands.
I was just lunging for his throat when there was a knock at my door. I released the kid. I picked up my sword as I walked toward the door.
"Who are you?"
"Putty, son of Cutty, son of Futty," replied the deep voice on the other side. I opened the door and let him in. He turned to me and raised his hand in the air, demanding his bizarre welcome ritual of "High five"
Putty is sort of my agent and he'll accept a .5% cut with no complaints so I leave him alone. How an unemployed idiot who spends all his days at the bear pits gets so many leads is beyond me. "Hey," he started, "I was just at the bear pits. They don't make bears like they used to! But there was this one bear today that---"
"Okay, Putty, where is it?" I cut him off. He frowned and handed me a semi-detailed map of a mansion of the newest evil rich person in town, Krueger Peterman. Three thieves had already attempted a break in but were all caught. Putty's brother was one of them, but Putty got over it pretty quickly. Nothing bothered him. "Uhhh...when you're done give me the paper back. Some lady at the bear pits gave me her address!" he said. I know what kind of women hang out at bear pits. They're disease circuses. Putty opened my door to leave and turned around. I obliged him a "high five." I noticed the kid staring with interest. "Hey Kid! What's your name?" I asked.
"Bovis," he replied.
"Okay, Beavis," I answered, "you sleep on the floor. We have work to do tomorrow."
"I don't wanna sleep on the floor!" he whined. I glared at him and he backed down. "can I have the candy?" I threw it at him, and satiated, he curled up on the floor. I placed the map on my desk and left to go to my bedroom. Today was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day. Soon it would be worse.
III
I don't know why, but several hours later I woke up. It was still dark. But something made me nervous. I exited my bedroom.
"Beavis!" I called. No answer. Of course. I told myself if I ever saw another Keeper I'd see how they like water and fire arrows in their ass. I grabbed for my equipment on my desk. Nothing there. The map was gone too. So. The kid thinks he's a thief? I had to go save him. He hadn't saved me yet. So I took my blackjack and sword and head out to the Peterman estate.
Nearing the mansion I noticed a strange lack of guards on the outside, and telltale candy wrappers.
I snuck over to the west side of the house and searched for whatever entrance Beavis took. It wasn't that hard. There was a window open, and behind it a broken flower pot. It seemed that he had just arrived here since no guards were alerted yet. I heard a quiet clinging sound and an "oops." It was him. I rushed to the noise source...he was fumbling for the lockpicks. I put my hand on his mouth and his eyes widened in surprise. When he saw it was me he calmed down. I made him stay perfectly still and silent as I heard a guard coming to investigate. I rushed him over to a column near a wall with a good amount of shadow and waited there for the guard.
"Dum duh dum duh dum!" sang the guard. "Hey! I think the cat opened the window! And dropped the vase! And dropped candy wrappers! Stupid cat...I hate cats! Now a bear, that's a pet! Hehehe...a bear could eat a cat! So you couldn't have a bear and a cat, cause the bear would eat it! So you'd just have the bear! And the cat couldn't eat the bear! I guess that's why the master doesn't have a bear. Too bad, cause a bear would be fun. Hehehe yeah the bear would....hey...what's that over there?" he said and stared at our column.
What the hell? I thought. Then I noticed Beavis's girth just stretching past the column.
"Hey!" said the guard, "If there's someone there, you'd better come out!"
I grabbed the kid's stomach and pushed it in. Bad move.
"HEEEEEY!" screamed the guard. "Somebody's in here, and they've just killed a duck! Guards!!!"
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