Frunt Goes To North America

There once was a man from Nantucket, well, it wasn’t REALLY Nantucket, but it does sound better then ‘there once was a man from a supermodels unwanted womb, then adopted away to a person in Nantucket’, well, I think it does, and I’m the author, so go die. Also, the ‘man’ was more like an ‘adolescent’ he liked to think of himself as a ‘fluorescent adolescent’ when everyone else agreed he was a ‘pubescent adolescent’ be he didn’t care what they thought, and they hated him, so it worked out. Most of the time.

 

I suppose we should give our character a name, I mean, I can’t keep writing ‘A Pubescent Adolescent’ every time, to time consuming, for easiness sake, lets’ call him, Frunt. Quite a common name, easy to spell, can’t think of any rude words that rhyme with it either, okay, I’m good to go. Let’s fire this cocksucker up!

 

Frunt liked to go to ‘Ye Olde Nantucket Whores and Grills Club’ watch some people have sex, and eat grilled chicken. ‘Nothin’ better ‘en grilled chicken and watching old guys score with 50 cent hookers’ he mused to himself one day, as the barman jumped over the bench and joined in with a large crowd of old men, and girls scarcely 10. Helping himself to some more beer he thought ‘why am I the only one who eats the grilled food here? Sure, it’s made of any hookers who get an STD, but it’s still good, and each bites packed with the flavor of one thousand orgasms, real, and fake’

 

Munching through what he hoped was the vagina, and not the ass he realized something very important that he’d been missing all his life. Every day since he’d come into this whore house he had only ever done it with a few whores, his fear of getting an STD was high, even for a twelve year old kid. But he realized, this one whorehouse must be getting tones of business every time he came in, it was packed. It was the he handed in his resume as a male hooker.

 

Frunt went home, and made himself a nice big sandwich; it had all the toppings, even that nice leg of cat he’d been saving since last whacking day, where he had unfortunately killed the neighbours’ cat in a fit of rage after a small marmoset came out of nowhere and bit off his big toe. Munching through the mold and avoiding the larger chunks of fungus he was having a merry time ‘wow’ he thought ‘once you muscle your way past the gag reflex, it’s remarkably similar to watching your parent’s make love on top of you!’ when a brick came through and knocked him on the head. Causing him to drop his cats leg on the ground, where it immediately ran over, and knocked the fridge on top of it going ‘I just can’t bear the pain!’ Frunt was disappointed ‘dammit, you threw the brick at the worst possible time!’ and he read the note, despairing the loss of his cats leg, he threw the brick back, waiting until he heard the satisfying thunk of it hitting someone in the head’

 

‘Gosh, I certainly hope he can read my message, I couldn’t read his. I really should have done grade two.’ He said to no one in particular ‘of course you should have done grade two, but we love you how you are’ said the table, to no one else in particular. Frunt didn’t even blink, his table talking to him was a regular occurrence, it was when the fish tank spoke that Frunt knew something was up. ‘I hold fishes’ said the fish tank, all the fish inside laughing. ‘Shit.’ said Frunt, ‘I know something’s wrong now. And since when did the fish laugh?! I thought that they could only snicker annoyingly?’

‘Oh, we can talk as well, moron, you just never listen to us, in fact, we always talk, not the fish tank! Freddy fish over there is a ventriloquist’

‘Yeah, so screw you!’ said the fish tank, well, what appeared to be the fish tank, and that we all know is now Freddy Fish.

 

Frunt was all very over whelmed by this, so he went and got very very drunk with one of his friends Fcrark. After drinking over 5 liters of goon each, they decided; ‘Hey! Let’s go get an eight ball! It’ll last us all weekend!’ after getting extremely wasted, and really high. They decided ‘hey! Lets go get rah rah rah another eight ball! It’ll last us all weekend! Rah rah rah’ though, by luck has it, the dealer had been arrested, and shot in the lower thigh about 10 minutes earlier, he was being held in a cell in north America somewhere. Only Frunt and Fcrark didn’t know this.

 

Frunt and Fcrark went to a nearby prostitute and asked her if she’d seen the dealer. She said she hadn’t but she heard from a man having sex with a squirrel that he’d been arrested and was being held in North America somewhere. ‘my god!’ Said Frunt ‘we’ll go to North America and find him! I want another eight ball!’

 

But as Frunt boarded the plane, Fcrark was in the toilet, and he missed the plane. I promise you I did not make him do that because I disliked his name, he will reappear in this story at some point. You can’t prove I dislike his name, but you can suspect it, and you’ll probably suspect right, I mean Fcrark? What was I thinking?!

 

Anyway, Frunt, being the genius he is didn’t even notice Fcrark was missing until he got out of the plane, and was chasing trucks down the road. But we haven’t got to there yet. Frunt put his headphones on and heard a voice saying ‘Frunt, this is your father! Kill them all! Stab them with a hatchet!’

‘ha-ha very funny dad, how did you get in these headphones? I thought you were dead?’

His fathers’ ghost sighed and muttered something about kids these days being stupid, and he went of to haunt some whores, and have some sweet ghost sex with them.

 

After watching eleven hours of TV packed into a small ten minute flight, Frunt just needed some fresh air, so he opened the door and just dropped. ‘Ah’ sighed Frunt, ‘fresh air’ and he angled his flight so that he was aimed at approximately where he wanted to go. After dropping for a while, and dodging the odd kamikaze pilot, he pulled the shoot on his parachute and landed safely on top of the plane he was on originally.

 

Did you seriously think I was going to kill of my character? You must be stupid, see, he did think to put on a parachute, I just didn’t include it because it’s perfectly sensible for him to grab one, he didn’t finish grade two, but he has some common sense.

 

I know I promised that Frunt would be chasing trucks, but I never said he wouldn’t be chasing trucks on his game boy did I? Yeah, you have to think ahead.

 

Frunt was walking along; when he remembered that he was supposed to be looking for the drug dealer to get another eight ball. So he went to another prison, just in time to see his dealer being stuck into the electric chair, so he bought a hot dog from a passing sales man and watched the show. The executor must have used too much electricity, because the force of the charge blew the dealer into pieces, and the head flew and landed in the middle of a swimming pool, scaring the living day lights out of a small family of swallows, causing them to fall out of the tree, hit a murderer in the head, and inadvertently the dealer saved a small family of Vietnamese children and their pet goat who by complete coincidence was also called Frunt.

 

  ‘Dammit!’ thought Frunt ‘that was the best… well only eight ball I’ve ever had, I wanted another!’ as he walked along, rooting through the remnants of drug dealer, and finding a surprisingly large amount of dope, which he stashed for later use.

 

So Frunt walked along the street, where on a whim, he turned around the corner, and to his amazement he found a nifty little shop, that sold guns. ‘wow! I thought you always had to STEAL guns, I didn’t know you could buy them!’ he said, chucking away his pistol, and going into the shop.

 

Half an hour later, Frunt walked out of the shop with his jacket pocket bulging, and the ominous sound of bullets clinking into each other in his pocket. And for reasons you will later discover, the front of his pants were bulging significantly. Also, for reasons we may never discover, he had two Jack Russell’s tied to his feet.

 

As Frunt shot down the street with super-dognic speed, jumping people in the way, and ducking any women in the way with a dress, and getting a nice up-skirt view along the way. And then WHUMP he hit a midget with a shotgun leveled at his head. ‘Gimme all yer moneys, or ima blow yer head off!’ he growled drunkenly.

‘I’m sorry mate, but all I have is some dope, will that do?’ said Frunt, while being terrified out of his wits. Then he realized, he had an AK47 in his jacket, and he whipped it out, and leveled it at the midgets’ head, which wasn’t very difficult because of the midgets’ small size.

 

They both realized that one was going down, so after two quick retorts BLAM! BLAM! The midget was swaying to and fro, and Frunt was lying on the road on his back. After a crowd had gathered around Frunt, and the clean up squad had removed the drunken midget’s body, Frunt opened his eyes and asked ‘is he gone yet? My chest hurts, stupid vest didn’t work very well…’

 

As Frunt stood up, he shook his head, and two squashed slugs dropped out of a socket that had been imprinted in his chest, directly over were his heart was. ‘wow! That was so lucky! I’m so glad I bought this bullet proof vest from that mean at the gun store! I love it when they have a two for one sale!’

 

Frunt then hung around in several nightclubs and bars until the wee hours of the morning, it was about two in the morning, when Frunt decided to go and sleep in the park. Lying on his back on the bench he saw a curious green glow growing around his body, and Frunt started to rise into the air, and he could feel a strange breeze around his genitals, when he realized that he wasn’t wearing any pants. ‘I hope they have a pair of pants I can have!’ he thought hopefully. But all thoughts of hope disappeared when he saw that the aliens looked a lot like John Howards left eye brow, and they didn’t wear pants, so he figured they wouldn’t have any. ‘good god! Put some pants on! We can see your reproductive organ! And it’s extremely small compared to ours!’

 

Frunt asked if they had any pants, and they handed him a suit that looked not unlike a giant pubic hair to cover himself with, when folded correctly, they did look a little like pants, without a seat. ‘How come these pants don’t have a seat?’ Frunt asked nervously. ‘Because it’s easier to anal probe you that way’ said one of the eyebrow aliens. They then proceeded with the probing. To much discomfort of Frunt, the probe had prongs that opened up on the way.

 

After all the excitement Frunt had just had enough, so he opened his fly, and pulled out two pocket sized thrusters, that when attached correctly, allow Jack Russell’s to fly, so attaching them to each dog, and jumping, Frunt flew home, via Amsterdam, and landed on top of Fcrark, Killing him dead, and stealing his wallet on the way.

 

As Frunt sat at home reflecting on what had happened during the event full 24 hour period, he realized that he never had another eight ball, so he decided to leave and try New Zealand next time, try some of their nation sport. Sheep Wrangling.

 

The End.