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Kyle climbed down off his horse and took a shit in the sagebrush. A rattlesnake bit him square on the ass so he picked it up, tied a knot in it and threw it at the screaming mountain lion flying at him from above. He rolled behind his horse as the snake exploded on impact, bits of en-venomated puma splattering the trees. He kept rolling right down into the valley, deftly dodging the talons and rabies of a half-blind encephalitis stricken eagle-bat as he bounced down the incline on his snakebit ass and landed in a heap in the middle of an encampment of three hundred violent, sex crazed, renegade Indians who were all on a break. They were sitting around with penises flaccid, smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and cleaning their bows. None of them paid him too much mind until the whistle went. Suddenly they were on their feet and wearing their terrifying game faces, erections blazing, but lucky for Kyle, with bows still unstrung.

He waited while they armed themselves, puffing on a discarded half-butt, his impatient toe tapping up a little cloud of dust. When they gave him the signal that they were ready, he flicked the butt, picked up a rock and threw it at a conveniently unstable pile of boulders at the top of the hill and ran for the river as the landslide erased the entire sex crazed renegade tribe from history and the valley filled with rubble.

Kyle started back up the dammed river to his horse when he heard the earth shake and move behind him. OH FUCK, ZOMBIES! In a flash Kyle ordained himself a priest. Fr. Kyle knelt in the water and blessed the forming lake, the sex crazed, renegade Indian zombies that were closest to him had only enough time to groan the barest of sex crazed indian zombie whoops before they were disintegrated from the knees up in the holy water. Kyle dusted off his hat, turned around, sucked the poison out of his ass, spat twice, found his way back up to his horse and pulled a baggie out from behind the saddle. He bent down in the sage, found his poop, scooped it and whistled on down the trail looking for a receptacle, moonbeams and lovesongs drifting playfully out of his asshole.

Date Written: July 01, 2004
Author: TheBuyer
Average Vote: 4.64286

07/7/2004 Ferucio P. Chhretan (3): This was enjoyable until the first paragraph ended. It got a little unrealistic after that, and the ending felt "tagged on".
07/7/2004 qualcomm (5): i'm'a give this a five.
07/7/2004 John Slocum (5): Imma do the same.
07/7/2004 Mr. Pony (5):
07/7/2004 Jacob Starfish: I think this is really great! Good job, author.
07/7/2004 anonymous: Hi Jacob Starfish! Are you going to do a summer allegory?
07/7/2004 Jon Matza (5): Best guest short in many a moon, in my opinion.
07/8/2004 Benny Maniacs (4): It reminded me of the Iliad, except Western.
07/8/2004 scoop (5): TheBuyer let loose on this one. Excellent work. The smoldering remnants of the defeated Calgary Falmes still eats oxygen in this young Candiener. My one minor complaint is the whistling out of the ass. After such a wacky bear's adventure I think it would almost think it funnier if he just whistled normal like. But that's a minor quibble.
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: no no no, he whistles out of his face, moonbeams dance out his ass. Also, Cheers!
07/8/2004 Will Disney (4): it's very cinematic, but i'm not so i'm so love with it as everyone else - 3.5 stars
07/8/2004 Pix (5): You know I loved it.
07/8/2004 qualcomm: hey Buyer, who's a better LA LA LA LA ?
07/8/2004 Litcube (4): Swede.
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: The Lerpa; phone me.
07/8/2004 qualcomm: can't you just tell me here?
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: not even a little.
07/8/2004 Will Disney: ummm should i remove these comments?
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: QUICKLY, PLEASE
07/8/2004 Pix: But there is nothing to hide, you have only fucked the one of us, and you have an internet stalker, thats all that needs to be said.
07/8/2004 qualcomm: whee, the lerpa has uncovered something. whee
07/8/2004 Pix: YA neat huh?
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: too late.
07/8/2004 Pix: Too late for what?
07/8/2004 Mr. Pony: I can smell the Lerpa's pride from here.
07/8/2004 qualcomm: Lerpa's Pride - that'll be Acme's brand name when we branch out into prepared snack foods.
07/8/2004 Ewan Snow: Was LA LA LA, etc. changed from something else? What's going on?
07/8/2004 qualcomm: i asked The Buyer who the better fuck was, Pix or Snack Bar
07/8/2004 Dylan Danko (5): Good job.
07/8/2004 Ewan Snow (5): Snack Bar always makes me hungry for Chicken Dinners. Nice short, by the way.
07/8/2004 25squared: Snack also serves up a fine microwaved salisbury steak with a slightly burnt cherry pie side dish that's too god damn hot to slide down your throat...deep down....intestinal deep.
07/8/2004 Craig Lewis (5): Atta boy, TheBuyer.
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: well. what an unholy shitstorm I have created. apologies to all those affected. the real kind not the 'whoops, was that the last eclaire?' kind. that's the best I can do without getting into it, sorry for that too.
07/8/2004 Mr. Pony: TheBuyer, did you just agree to shoulder the responsibility for The Lerpa's brattiness?
07/8/2004 qualcomm: sssssssssss!
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: completely.
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: damnnit, I keep forgetting the 'f u The Lerpa, you cunt' part. well maybe later
07/8/2004 qualcomm: oh yeah, sorry about that
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: it's lubed.
07/8/2004 TheBuyer: Now that this has died down, let me set the record straight. Snack Bar is not stalking me, nor is she Canadian.
11/29/2004 TREE (5): I am still laughing
05/7/2010 Dylan Danko: There's a lot going on in the comments section. Seems like such a long time ago.