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Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

September 15, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

By Dick Oakes, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
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I stumbled drunkenly into the Go-Go club.  It was dark and desolate at that hour.  There was a girl on the pole though; she was wearing a red wig and had lovely firm cans that put me in a pacific mood.  Someone in the back yelled out “VAGINA” in a demented voice.  There was a flicker of sunlight as the front door opened and closed.

The next thing I knew, some guy brained me from behind with a wine bottle.  I collapsed onto the stage and was only very vaguely aware as my body was dragged into the dimly-lit bathroom.  Two guys took their belts off and strapped me to a radiator.

An hour later, they unstrapped me and took me outside into a gravel-strewn parking lot.  A tremendous amount of dust had kicked up and the sky was dark and menacing.

The lights of a late-model sedan pierced the darkness and pulled beside us.  I was thrown into the backseat with the guy two goons beside me.  The car pulled off.

I saw it coming before the driver.  The sky had suddenly turned into a thick, syrupy cloud of black gas, descending over the horizon, obliterating everything in its path.  The goons kept poking me with different types of aluminum cans, laughing.  I decked one with a quick left, kicked the other hard in the face and, all in one motion, threw the door open and rolled out into the woods.  The driver tried to stop but the cloud was like a heavy wool blanket.  They were enveloped instantly.

I took off through the woods, away from the gas.  I could hear screaming; a metal sign, painted haphazardly, had been placed on a majestic old oak.  It read, “THE END” and, in a different color paint below, “PENIS”.  I vomited into a hollow.

When I awoke, a man in a gas mask stood over me.  I became slowly aware that I too was wearing a gas mask.  The sky was ashen.  “You’ll have to come with me,” he said.  “We’re eating warmed-through cakes.  We’ve found a special room of warmed-through cakes.”  He looked at the sky.  “Hurry!” he yelled.  He helped me to my feet.  “These warmed-through cakes– they too, will end.”

That night we feasted.

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