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I dug this gem up from the ashes the other month and shared it with End and mizal, but I forgot to share it with the rest of you adorable little guttersnipes.

This isn't a work of fiction, at least, as I've proclaimed for years, no one can prove it is, even if it was, which I'm saying it's not. Anyway, I submitted this as part of an unfathomably asinine assignment in the long lost days of university life.

May the eco-hippies from upper class suburbia - who think sleeping in an RV while in a park counts as camping - forever suck the blowholes of dolphins.


Spewing Academic Excellence Out of an Unholy Orifice : By A Young Bucky

At the dog park with my German Shepherd, I sat on a bench next to a cute brunette. The sun tried to force its way through the clouds and a light breeze lingered. The flow of air made the girl chilly. Her nipples perked, quite apparent under her tight and low-cut top, an interesting choice for a cool morning in early spring, not that I had any complaints. It would have made little difference to me if she was bundled up in parka or naked, though both extremes would have been quite amusing. Her golden retriever and my dog frolicked around the park and did other dog things as we made small talk.

“What do you think of nature?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, unwrapping a Snickers.

“In general, what are your thoughts on it? Too much, too little, peaceful, serene, an abomination?”

She giggled then pursed her lips in thought. “Oh, hmm, well, I wouldn’t call it an abomination that’s for sure.”

The conversation devolved from there and I returned my attention to the dogs. A third dog had joined her Retriever and my Shepherd. What he did next was fascinating. After circling around three times, he humped up his haunches, with his rear facing away from the wind. He released an impressive pile of dung, which all three dogs proceed to sniff.

“Oh, no!” the girl cried. “Mandy, get away from that.”

Grabbing her arm, I said, “No, wait! This is fantastic. They’re in their element. This is the most natural thing that’ll happen here all day.”

She gave me a look. The kind of look that suggested I was some kind of weirdo, but I ignored her ignorance and focused on the scene at hand.

My Shepherd circled around the pile of dung, with his tail raised. The Retriever circled with its tail lowered. The third dog, probably a mutt, stuck his nose in it and did not bother to circle. It did not take long for the girl to take her dog and walk away, destroying the natural scene. She kept her distance from me as she left.

Little else of significance occurred. The owner of the other dog cleaned up the dog’s poop in obedient fashion. A lone squirrel scurried and was chased away by several dogs. On my way out of the park, I noticed a chocolate lab had caught another squirrel. Proud of his achievement, he presented it at his owners’ feet. What stupid animals, why would a squirrel choose to live in a dog park?

…

In my unnatural setting, I sat down on a bench near a McDonald’s parking lot. The half hour went by painfully slow. It was torture. The greasy smell of fast food wafted from the McDonald’s, poisoning the air. A herd of elephants piled from their car and made the long, difficult trek to the store’s door. It was in doubt for a while if they would all make the journey. A single seal flopped along in its awkward seal manner after the elephants. It put a charge on halfway to the door, circumventing the elephant herd. Survival instincts must have kicked in there. It would be life-threatening to wait behind the herd. All of the food may be devoured, or at very least the seal may have died of boredom waiting in line.

Various other critters struggled with the long, arduous journey from the parking lot to the McDonald’s. There were hippopotamus, whales, a particularly long-necked giraffe, a trio of vixen, the foxy variety, and an animal or two, which I could not categorize.

Near the end of my time, I saw what could only be the workings of a drug deal in process. A car pulled into the parking lot and a greasy teenage mutant ninja turtle walked over to the driver side door. The figure inside rolled down the window and the mutant turtle handed him some money. The figure drew something from his pocket, handing it to the mutant turtle. They parted ways with more speed than anything else I had seen so far. The car disappeared and the mutant turtle took off, a very interesting occurrence. This was not the first time I had witnessed a drug deal in this McDonald’s parking lot. It did not bother me, but it made me question the cognitive abilities of those involved. The pigpen was right across the street after all.

…

While a dog park is far from what I would consider a truly natural place, it proved it had elements of nature. The cognitively disabled squirrels proved survival of the fittest reigns. The Labrador did an excellent job improving the gene pool of the squirrel population, and I hope his owner gave him a nice bone to chew. The interdependence of creatures was demonstrated by the role reversal of dog and man. The owner of the dog who defecated, by far the most natural thing which occurred, cleaned up after the animal, even though it is he who owns the dog. The dog relies on him for food and shelter, and the owner relies on the dog for company, each must make sacrifices to live together. Back to the dung pile, the dung pile perfectly represents the cycle of life in the natural world. Food is eaten, energy is provided, energy is expended, waste is recycled, plants use the recycled waste to help grow, and the process continues. Focus should not be put on the death rituals that Baer discusses, but on growth and renewal. Slavish maintenance is lacking when compared to the majesty of the life cycle. Baer would likely agree.

The McDonald’s parking lot demonstrated the severe distance between American’s of fifty years ago and Americans today. In years past, you would rarely see a obese American. There were always exceptions. William Howard Taft getting stuck in the bathtub is the most humorous and easily recognizable instance that comes to mind. However, the increase in service based jobs and automation in the work place is taking away from manual labor jobs. People have more access to fatty foods, and the portions have greatly increased in size since companies like McDonald’s first opened. Upon reflection, the cultural shift is quite apparent by watching the elephant herds at McDonald’s. Perhaps Americans need to unself, as Murdoch suggests. If Americans unself, perhaps they will see the harm aspects of their culture inflict upon themselves and others. A salad, without the fatty dressing, may be a superior choice to the Big Mac and with continued habituation could save the American taxpayer the expense of an open-heat surgery. On the positive side, it is pleasing to see that entrepreneurship still flows in the American blood. The drug dealer works hard to run his business, taking the risks necessary to make his sales.

With all of the elephants, trampling about, blood-lusting dogs, and shifty entrepreneurs, it is difficult to find security or safety anywhere in the world. The wilderness, the true wilderness, offers many other dangers as do the crime-infested streets of civilization. Now, I will not change my habits, and am not easily intimidated, but the threats are real. My stance of live and let live, live and let die tend to keep me out of trouble. If anything, I am encouraged to support advocacy for anabolic steroids, so I can legally supercharge my muscles as a means of self-defense. Until then, I will have to stick with the grueling grind of pumping iron. Perhaps it is time to invest in a handgun and concealed carry permit. Dirty Harry’s gun should keep me safe.

Dirty Harry's gun is a low-capacity overkill machine that isn't very safe unless you're good at guns. So it won't keep you safe. It's also really hard to conceal, unless you're wearing hollow fake boobs.

Boom, proven not-real.

Definitely low capacity, but LE has, and still does in certain jurisdictions, used revolvers as the primary sidearm. They have speed-loaders for them. Dirty Harry was just a shitty cop, despite his badass status in cinema. A real LE would have been reloading throughout all of those gunfights.

As a civilian, a gun that big would be tough to conceal, and open carry is kind of stupid because you're basically showing your hand to anyone that wants to fuck with you or your people. But if you're a tall, big, or fat man/woman, you can still conceal a big sidearm like that, depending on where you stash it. Granted, most law abiding citizens that conceal carry use holsters, but that probably wouldn't work to conceal that gun.

As a personal, at-home-only protection gun though, it'd be fine. Burglars probably won't be walking away from that.

EDIT: Shit, what the hell are you doing, Sent? Stop before Raven comes and starts pleasuring himself to his computer screen.

But Dirty Harries have mad recoil! Anything above .357 is overkill that knocks your hands away if you plan on killing a dude, and you'd only be able to kill 6 dudes in quick succession! What happens if you want to kill 7 dudes? Or 9 dudes? Huh!? You wouldn't have enough bullets, that's what!

I much prefer the scare-tactic self-defense method: Only go ito alleyways carrying big, "Technically Legal" rifles. Preferably with one or more bayonets attached. That way thugs know, even if they take your money, that you're probably a prepper or someone of equally compromised mental state that will probably hunt them down and burn their commie house to the ground, and they'll steer clear.

EDIT: The joke was that I was proving the story wrong by nitpicking the Dirty Harry gun, when I could've just said that there weren't no such thing as a Ninja Turtle... But then you had to go and post something worth discussing, and now here we are posting Raven porn, dammit!

Well, if you're trying to kill 6-7 dudes with a sidearm and no backup, you're doing something wrong. Either that or you're Hollywood's next blockbuster action hero. But if you're shooting something like a .40 cal, you're still only firing two shots, then re-assessing the situation and re-aiming. Anyway, LE are trained to do two to the chest (actutally whatever center mass is) and one to the head while re-assessing the situation. But that's the technical outlook, and we can all agree, Raven doesn't need an excuse to get technical on us because we'll never hear the end of it, even if it's a pile dung spewed out of an unholy orifice. Sadly, I gave him enough... "ammo" already. No one tag him.

Lol.

And to the edit: I'm aware, but... also lol.

@Raven

You know, if I had to venture a guess at anyone who'd do that, with no other commentary whatsoever, you'd have been that special someone.

Lucky for you that's not his full profile.

Ahahaha, you get your Bucky points back. Granted, that probably wouldn't have fooled me sober.

By writing an essay about princess bosom shall I earn more points, Professor?

Naturally. Just so long as you keep the beautiful cliche princesses - those with blue eyes, blond hair and big bosoms - segregated from the filthy mudbloods that don't meet the entirety of that criteria.

Seriously though, I feel like we need more random, short-sample blurbs in the WW. It's a nice break from the ominous trend of motivational threads that Briar started in yester-year and the the plague of dung that manifests in the New StoryGame section.

Why don't you pump in one? I'll write something :3.

Actually I don’t remember you showing me this before. I don't have PM from you about it.

You at least got the first part. I remember you liked the imagery.

Oh wait, now I remember. You showed this gem at the secret hideout. Yeah, funny stuff.