Billy Bob Joe Smith McRodney Fred Jr.

Billy Bob Joe Bob McRodney Fred jr.’s Mildly Eventful Stroll Through the Park

         It was a warm summer midmorning, and the sun shone brightly through the... no… wait... hang on, let me just get my notes together here.  Ah... Oh! Well, this is embarrassing.  I appear to have misread my notes.

         Ahem... It was a dark and stormy night, and the moon barely shone through the clouds, like a thick sheet pulled over a small light.  Billy Bob Joe Smith McRodney Fred jr. could barely see the road in front of him.  Of course that was hardly surprising.
The road was black.  He could see everything else perfectly fine.  I mean, come on, it wasn't THAT dark.  There were street lights absolutely littering the place.

         Anyways, as Billy Bob Joe Smith McRodney Fred jr. walked, he heard an absolutely dreadful gnashing of teeth, seeming to come from right behind him.  Looking to his right and left, he could see nothing.  Of course, he didn't look behind him.  Which, in retrospect, was a rather silly thing to do, seeing as he was quite unsettled by this little sound.

         Deciding it was simply the wind (which had a rather nasty jaw infection at the time), Billy Bob Joe Smith McRodney Fred jr., continued his midnight stroll.  He didn't quite know why he was taking a little trot at such a time, and neither did the narrator, but he settled his mind with the idea that he wanted to clear his head.

         Thus, his walk now more justified than ever before, he continued along on his late night journey across the pavement.  Little did he know that this was to be his last midnight stroll.  It's pretty cold out. Billy Bob Joe Smith McRodney Fre... well, you know his name by now... thought, I do believe this is going to be my last midnight stroll.

THE END

         Just kidding, just kidding.  Billy shrugged off the shock of that false ending, and continued his walk upon the road.  However, he didn't get very far before he heard a great whooping sound in his ear, and his eardrum ached from the strain of such a loud sound.  “Dude, that hur-”

         He would never finish that sentence, as the narrator, who always spoke in third person, interrupted him to point out that there was no one there.

         There was no one there.

         Spooked by the narrator's chilling words, Billy felt a chill down his spine.  Mainly because he was wearing his jacket backwards and had forgotten to zip it up (it had been a long day), but also because he was spooked.  Not that a whooping or gnashing of teeth were especially frightening sounds, but the narrator's flawless delivery nevertheless made them sound so.

         Billy, beginning to get considerably annoyed with all the suspense, began to run down the road, hoping to advance the plot faster.  His efforts were in vain.  He eventually stopped running, tired, and sat down on a community bench that was conveniently there.  The seat was cold, and Billy's arse had all it's warmth swept away.

         Mainly because he wasn't wearing any pants (it had been a really long day), but the seat really was quite chilly, pants or not.  His underwear soaked by the wet seat, Billy decided to man up and stand up.  He did so, and immediately felt his legs go rubbery.  Man, he thought, now would be a really bad time time to be chased by an ax murderer.  Suddenly, out of the bushes behind him,

jumped out a rabbit.

         Billy decided to stop foreshadowing his own death, that was the narrator's job after all, dammit, and stood still for a few minutes.  Just as he worked up the strength to continue on his journey, he heard a strange sound.  A fish howled in the distance.  Though he had never heard a salmon howl before, Billy was sure that the sound could only belong to a fish.  What other animal could make that sound?  Well, perhaps a badger, but those weren't native to Siberia.

         Of course, Billy lived in Florida, but he was sure the same rules applied.  Cautiously, he crept forth, ready to hear another loud, startling, and seemingly random sound.  He didn't.  Instead, he felt a tap on his shoulder.  Looking behind him, he saw the partying serial goldfish murderer of the ancients, a demon only spoken of in whispers.

         “YOU.” It said, its terrible voice a shout and a whisper.  “ARE NOT WEARING ANY PANTS.” 

         A silence. 

         “WHAT THE HELL DUDE.”

         “It's been a really, really long day.”

         “AH.  I SEE.” said the horrible phantom before him.  Suddenly, without warning or good explanation, the being before Billy drew a fish tank from the folds of his robe (a rather impressive feat) and threw it on the ground.  “NOOOO!!!!” Billy shouted.  But it was too late.  The goldfish were upon him.  They grabbed his backwards jacket, soggy underpants, and bare legs; and began to drag him towards the  partying serial goldfish murderer of the ancients.  Screaming, Billy scraped the ground with his nails, try to get a hold on something.  However, there was nothing to grab, and he was dragged, kicking and sobbing in fear and pain (but mostly confusion), into the abyss.


Which, surprisingly, was not very dissimilar from Florida.