Last Rights - From Cattywompus

“I don’t care if the pope’s doing it. It ain’t right and it’s not for me. A man wasn’t meant to have his brains stuffed into a computer.” Carol looked embarrassed at her father’s outburst, but the young doctor smiled and stepped in.

“Mr. Stevenson, I assure you, Upload is a completely safe procedure. We-“ Wilbur Stevenson began pulling the electrodes off his scalp and the doctor frowned.

“Daddy, please be reasonable!” Carol said, trying to calm her father.

“Live in a damn cartoon world? No sir!” The doctor smiled and reattached the electrodes.

“That’s a gross oversimplification. The grid is a virtual space, but it’s far from a cartoon. I’m sure some of your friends are even there-“

The Deflowering of Chastity St. James - From Cattywompus

Chastity felt a warmth in her belly as the stallion and the mare coupled in the field.

 

"He's not hurting her, is he, Edward?" she asked breathlessly.

 

"No ... he's not." Chastity ran a hand across Edwards bare chest, tracing the rippling muscles. She sighed wistfully. She knew that it was wrong, she was a St. James, after all. A woman of her station could never be with a common stable boy, no matter how true their love was.

 

She didn't care.

 

"I could teach you," Edward whispered quietly into her blushing ear.

The Legend of Jango Stevens - From Cattywompus

(Dear Freemont, this is 90% in fun. This was written to address a friend's tall tales about a blackbelt Übermensch barfighter who could beat any human being alive regardless of circumstance and also came off as a facepunching lunatic and was intended to rile him.  /end pussy ass disclaimer- Will)




Years ago, in the little town of Fremont, Nebraska, where the pleasant aroma of the hog-rendering plant blankets the city in it’s sweet perfume, and the wind doesn’t blow, it sucks, lived the greatest warrior the world has ever seen. His Christian name was Jango Stevens. 

Nine feet tall he was, with biceps like kegs of Pabst Blue Ribbon and legs so powerful he could tip cows two at a time. During the daylight hours, majestic in his flannel shirt and Peterbuilt hat, he spent his days at the meat packing plant, stunning cows not with an air hammer, but with the power of his glare alone.

But when the day ended and the moon was high in the sky, Jango Stevens would comb back his mullet just so, slip on his biggest, shiniest belt buckle, and drive down to Scooters pub. There, he was the drinkenist, fightenist man the town ever seen.

He’d fight men six at a time, they say, until the wee hours, when he would retire to his glorious doublewide with the waitress of his choice, and celebrate his victory until dawn. Such was his life... until one fateful night.

Bobby Anderson's Report on the Universe

My Report on the Universe

by Bobby “Singularity” Anderson
Grade 8

Instead of an explanation of the universe, I give you a letter of protest.

It’s completely unfair that I should have to take Science and Sexual Education when the Patterson twins don’t have to. If they have enough time to show up at my house on weekends in white shirts with name-tags and give books away, they have time to learn about science and how terrifying vagina's are in cross section and not to make fun of Norman for being gay. (Not gay gay, gay-gay.)

Letters from Gay Camp! From "Cattywompus"

Dear Mom and Dad,

OK, for once in my life I can admit you were absolutely right.

When you caught me kissing Mark, threw me into the car, and drove me five-hundred miles into the middle of Missouri, I was skeptical (and completely out of product.). I didn't believe that being Gay was something I could treat, especially through prayer.

I remember driving under the "Camp Knotty Pines Retreat for Confused Christian Boys" sign and thinking "Great, all these insect bites are going to just destroy my complexion."

How wrong was I?

Please ignore everything I said, dear parents. Homosexuality absolutely can be cured by prayer and willpower, and I insist that I stay the entire summer in order to completely exercise- pardon, exorcise... hrm... Freudian... my "gay demons." It's the only way I can grow and mature as a true Christian.

I even have a girlfriend now! We were each assigned a girlfriend/boyfriend and a same gender "Prayer Partner." My girlfriend's name is Amanda, one of the "used to be lesbians" from "Camp Blossoming Orchids" across the lake. She has hair and a face.

Edward from Twilight Gets Beat for About Three Pages - From Cattywompus

Edward Cullan rolled on the ground in agony, the policemen slamming their boots into him. Chief Charlie Swan watched with a look of quiet reserve. Bella watched, as did Jacob, who just really only showed up when Edward and Bella weren't doing well. Which was basically now.

"Dad stop!" Bella said, "I love him!"

"Wait," Jacob said, taking off his shirt for reasons not readily apparent to the plot. His chest was muscular, and glistening.

"I love Jacob!"

Chief Swan raised an eyebrow. "Bella, pancakes or waffles," her father said. Edward said nothing, he was being curb stomped.

"Pancakes are my favorite!" Bella said.

"I like waffles better, you can put whipped cream on them," Chief Swan said.

"I like waffles better too, Dad," Bella said seriously, and Chief Swan shook his head. He turned to Edward.