Turd Blossoms

The world might have been all right if the amazing young dung babies had
been run over when Mr Bubba backed out of the alley. But fate rarely does
what it should. And it was quite a while before Bubba was through.

Just as the miraculous crap critters were squirming to life, a fortunate son
of Nazi sympathizers ducked into the aforementioned alley to smoke a
joint after a debutant party. He lit the fat doobie and held the rich smoke
in his lungs for a full fortyfive seconds.

When he coughed it out into the streetlight, the serious Republican look on
his face had changed into the silly grin of a lovestruck teenager.

But there are a few things we should know about this fellow before we
judge him harshly. He had a hard time growing up His father was a rich
pantywaist who really liked little boys. His mother taught the Tazmanian
Devil how to get mad. He had been pottytrained with a bullwhip. He was
hung like a Barbie doll. Consequently, Mr Prudent Junksure loved pot.

Now we can judge him harshly.

He took another toke and warily looked everywhere but behind him. He
was sure he was alone in the alley. He'd ducked into the alley because
he was sure it was deserted. His mother would beat him with the butler
if she found out he got high. So he was always very careful to make sure
he was completely alone whenever he smoked.

But, as we know, smoking marijuana can make you go duckhunting
with a rake. He wasn't the most observant fellow. Three feet behind him
in the still-smouldering radioactive sludge four very ugly babies were
squirming and smelled like full diapers.

When we need miracles to stop wildfires, hurricanes, or tsunamis, they're
suspiciously scarce. But if needed to create something awful, miracles
are as common as cats. Maybe God just gets bored.

Mr Junksure had just lit his second piece of Colombia when he heard
a faint squawk behind him. A less blitzed man would have whirled
around and confronted his attacker (or shat or went blind). Mr
Junksure simply turned slowly and said, "Whoa, fuck!"

Perhaps he was at a loss for words. He had never been graceful with
syllables. He had always been vocabulary-challenged. As a child, he
called his pet dog, "Kitty." When he wanted a glass of water, he often
said, "Spank me." His own parents were grateful they said when he
finally started school and learned to speak. They couldn't wait for the
day he learned to say "goodbye."

Prudent had never had a dog for long. His three goldfish had been eaten
by his cat (which then ran away). His hamster had not survived the spin
cycle. Thus in his potted mind, it made perfect sense to Prudent that
he should put these four creatures in a box and take them home.

It's the world's bad luck they didn't go the way of the others.

Prudent found a cardboard box in the alley and proudly carried his
squirming little turd blossoms across to the other side of town where
his driver would be waiting. The giggle of Prudent Junksure as he
walked along, beaming down at his excrement pets was something
better left unheard. As the other people on the sidewalk gave him
odd looks and moved to the edge of the sidewalk, no one had any
idea what a calamity for humanity had just begun.

His driver, Rover, didn't ask Prudent what he had in the box when he
opened the door to the limousine. He didn't even try to peak inside.
He was very lucky to have this job after what he'd done for
Hitler and he wanted his son, Snarl, to have every advantage to do
even more. And, besides, he knew that Prudent was a warped little
weasel and Rover didn't want to know what was in the box.

Back at the ranch outside Crawford, Texas (that his family had stolen
from a sweet old couple named Bob and Oleta Sweet), Prudent carried
the box to his room and set it on the bed. His little pookie people made
him laugh. He had fired up another doobie in the back of the limosine
on the way there and neither his buzz nor his fascination with his new
pets had faded.

In fact, there was a goofily serene look on Prudent's face as he gazed
at the wiggling weirdness in the cardboard box. They were shit, the whole
shit and nothing but the shit. And yet they were somehow more than just
shit. It made Prudent feel like there might someday be hope for him.