Updated sporadically! Guaranteed!

Tuesday, February 7, 2006

Yet Another Short Piece Of Shitty Fiction

Another piece of shitty fiction to accompany the previous piece of shitty fiction.

The gentle breeze softly swayed the branches of the tree that the old man was sitting against. Propped up beneath the tall oak, the man fiddled with his banjo with one hand, while stirring the simmering pot with the other.

Down the road, a thin reedy man approached and stood a respectful distance away, waiting to be noticed by the elder man.

"Evenin' stranger." the old man delcared.

"Might I trouble you for some grub?" the stranger asked quietly.

"We earn our food with music making 'round these parts." the old man stated.

"Well, I don't play."

The old man eyed the stranger and ruminated for a moment. As he spat into the dirt he replied to the stranger.

"I guess you might be a touch fucked then, aren't you?"

The stranger dropped his head and thought for a few moments. He realized the truth of the old man's stinging rebuke.

"Well, I've accumulated a fair bit of wind from walking," the stranger stated, "I reckon I could fart you up a tune."

The old man nodded in reply.

"You like Gershwin?" the stranger asked.

"I'm more of a Stephen Foster man."

The stranger thought for a brief minute.

"I'm not too familiar, but if you start humming I'm sure my anus could catch up."

The old man began humming. Soon after the stranger began farting.

Later, they ate.

It was spring when the stranger first arrived. It was winter when he finally pushed on.

After the time they spent together, the old man would never be the same again.

Comments :

0 comments to “Yet Another Short Piece Of Shitty Fiction”

Post a Comment

Related Posts with Thumbnails