Howdy Kiddies, It's your ol' Uncle Tom here sittin' on his favorite
rocking chair with all of you gathered around 'cuz it's story time. Now, Uncle
Tom's stories are meant to enlighten as well as entertain, but Uncle Tom is
gettin up there in years and has a tendency to wander off aimlessly into other
topics that have nothing to do with the one at hand such as why you drive on
parkways and park on driveways or why boy's bikes have that bar right there
and....where was I? Oh yeah, story time. As I was sayin', the ol' Uncle likes to
spread the wisdom he has learned from countless hours of cartoons and binge
drinking to the future of this planet, you kids. Why, I guess that's the whole
point of Uncle Tom's story time. To prepare you for the world you will soon run
by telling you stories dreamed up by an odd ball who calls himself Uncle Tom.
Anyways, on with the show....
Uncle Tom's stories are usually imprompru, and as such seem pointless and
wierd. If at any time while reading this you begin to feel discomfort, continue
immediately and take it like a man. As read in Uncle Tom's forth-comming book
'Sadism For Cash and Prizes', "What's the point of pleasure if you don't have
any pain to guage it on? Sometimes you need a little pain just to make the rest
of life look better." With the legal discalimer stated, we can now begin.
Once upon a time in a town far away where animals run the town,
Washington D.C. I think, there lived a fox. Now this was your ordinary fox. He
was sly, intelligent, and was always friendly. He always loved to help out
whoever he could whenever he could. This fox worked at this deadend job at the
fireworks factory. He loved his job. Having no future meant nothing to him. Just
making people happy was his biggest pay, much bigger than his measly wage. He
loved to see how people would watch the magnificent firework shows he put on.
The people would often compliment him on his abilities, and this made him feel
really good.
The fox had many co-workers he spent time with. There was
the wise owl, the funny rabbit, the whimsical jay bird, the adorible woodchuck,
and the occasional beaver that would work with him. His co-workers were also
very customer-minded creatures who worked hard every day of their lives just to
make others happy. The fox loved to spend time with these co-workers because
they were a lot of fun to be with. They seemes to make such a dull job fun. But
not everyone the fox worked with were so special. At this very same fireworks
factory was a goony, dopey Chipmunk, and as always, the manager chickens. Now,
this chipmunk was dumb. Not like usual animal dumb, were talking cottage cheese
dumb, and No offense to cottage cheese. He would constantly make the fireworks
wrong, and rarely ever followed orders. In fact, I think he was responsible for
the 'accidental' death of 3 workers. This chipmunk had problems all of the time,
but instead of hiding in his burrow, he'd hide between lies and accusations to
berate others, move the blame, and make himself look better. He would make
mistake after mistake and point out the flaws of others to the manager chickens.
Now the manager chickens were another problem for the very factory they
ran. I don't really know why all managers in this animal city had to be
chickens. Although, to the best of my knowledge, all managers even in the real
world are chickens too. These chickens would frequently run around pointlessly
much like, well, a chicken with it's head cut off. Unable to make a decision,
they would constantly look for the easy answer to prevent any particular one of
them having to take the fall. This was no problem for the chipmunk. He was
always looking for somebody to take the fall for everything.
After a
hard day's work, the fox headed home for some rest. Little did he know his
demise was in the works. The chipmunk started saying about what a bad job the
fox did and how the fox was such a lousy worker while the chipmunk was such a
great worker. These untrue stories about the fox went on and on, spewing like
burning lava from Mount Liezalot. When the fox returned to work, his true
friends, his dear co-workers, alerted him about how the chipmunk was viciously
attacking the fox's work ethic. In attempt to refrain from lashing out, the fox
decided to keep his composure and not take it out on the chipmunk. Instead he
wrote about how much he disliked the chipmunk on a piece of paper where it was
out of the sight of co-workers and customers. He thought this was the best plan
of action. He was wrong.
The interesting thing about manager chickens is
that they have evolved so that instead of having 100% of brain activity for
thought, they only think 1% of the time and use the other 99% for
prognosticating. It's ironic they can see into the future, but can't remember
the past more than ten seconds ago. Anyways, they use this psychic ability for
guessing three right lotto numbers (all would be a giveaway), and to predict the
exact moment to do the wrong thing. Never has that time been more accurate. One
of the manager chickens came in and took the paper about the chipmunk. Even
though he didn't even know the papers existed, he knew this was the right time
to strike on innocent prey. Believing every word the chipmunk said, and with
this new found evidence in hand, they disciplined the fox.
Now if we
liked the chickens, that's where we'd end the story to have the happy ending,
but since we cheer for the good guy, I'll tell you the rest of the story. In
reality, what nobody noticed was that the fox both lamented and reveled in his
new found freedom. He was no longer in their shackles, but he couldn't see his
friends anymore either. These emotions boiled inside him til he couldn't take it
anymore. He loved being free, but hated being apart from his friends, so he
followed the only plan of action that seemed feesable in his now warped,
twisted, illogical mind. Utilizing his size and intelligence advantage, he
stalked the chipmunk until the fox was sure that the chipmunk was as helpless as
a newborn, and swooped in on his attack. The fox was thorough. Leaving
absolutely nothing to be traced. The fox used every ounce of physical and mental
abitily to thoroughly dismember and destroy anything even remotely associated
with the chipmunk. That wasn't all of his revenge though. He then went back to
the fireworks factory for the final part of his plan. Noone suspected he knew
what all he knew, so it was no problem for the crafty fox to slay each chicken
that wanted him gone. Each killing more gorier than the first til the utter
bloodfest of the death of the main chicken.
Everyone was so happy to be
reunited with the fox that they threw a party for him where everybody danced and
had a great time until the fox was apprehended and sent to prison on over ten
counts of psycopathic manslaughter. All in all, the fox never felt bad for what
he had done.