#PLEASE watch campfire stories because it also has baby mac in it

[jtownraindancer]

No but you are absolutely right @breezebloxx! Somewhat ironically, it was Charlie who had more definition in his facial structure at about that age.

(Campfire Stories, 2001)

Owen Harper and Mrs. Hudson Annoying Each Other

[jeanplaisance]

The Goon Squad 2

For your listening enjoyment while reading this short story about the audacious endeavors of a select group of dysfunctional individuals, please use the following playlist for your selection of background music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-WzMovyzUA&list=PLWhQLCK89W8BDlgoZ-Rcp75q2WSjKRhGn

In the middle of a wasteland, the squad had set up a small encampment under the umbrella of an acacia tree’s foliage complete with a campfire pit and a tent large enough for the three of them, excluding the Gimp who preferred to endure the elements. It was here they had settled just outside of the ruins of a large city, a brief distance away from the shattered remnants of a highway.

“Leslie!! The Gimp is acting weird!” called out the Kid.

Leslie, without stopping his knitting, mocked, “Oh if I had a dong for every time I heard that…” With some pull and strain, the Kid managed to drag the Gimp out from behind the tent and into Leslie’s line of sight. He had equipped himself with a harness and was harassing the kid in a dog-like manner as if he wanted to be walked.

“Oh! Go find Fred! The Gimp wants to go somewhere. Why didn’t you just say so?” The Kid grimaced, as if to suggest that this question somehow stupid. Meanwhile, the gimp was nodding furiously to indicate that Leslie’s interpretation was correct. The kid groaned, bracing himself for the humiliation that was the cart.

The Goon Squad may be lacking in most classical faculties that one would consider necessary to proper human conduct, but they well understood energy preservation when it came to long distance travel in the wastes of society… Needless to say, fighting dudes on the beach was not conservative in any capacity. And thus, the gang all squeezed into a shopping cart hooked to the Gimp via harness and they began their uncomfortable, bumpy journey into the city. The Gimp gave no consideration to pot holes, believing them to build character, especially for a vehicle with no cushioning or shock support. Bumps were no factor in Leslie’s knitting abilities, and he proceeded unhindered.

You might picture that this group was recklessly barreling down the highways, speeding recklessly on the downward slope of overpasses, blazing through intersections and doing wheelies in parking lots. However, the Gimp is an obedient creature at heart. He obeys traffic laws. He stays in his lane, signals when appropriate, yields to oncoming traffic, and comes to a full stop at stop signs. He is fully concerned with the safety of his passengers, understanding that while he likes abuse, he should not assert that on others. He would obey the speed limit as well, but he will never reach speeds that mattered. Not with that attitude, at least.

Most of the city was desolate. Stores had been stripped of any and all supplies long ago, becoming operational bases to local bandits. Yet, one stood unphased by the catastrophe that struck. Sitting under an exceptionally high overpass, there was the Mega Mini Mart. Like a mini mart, it had only simple supplies, but unlike a mini mart, those supplies were in abundance. Where a mini mart might have cough drops, deodorant, band-aids, and cat food, the Mega Mini Mart had cough drops, deodorant, band-aids, cat food, deodorant, cat food, cough drops, band-aids, band-aids, band-aids, deodorant, cat food, cough drops, and deodorant.You see the difference? This is not to be confused with the Mini Mega Mart, which was a miniature scale model of the mega mart next door which has excellent variety in the products it offers. Its primary customers were ants and was run by fruit flies. Yet, everybody knew that the fruit flies were a front and the store was actually operated by yellow jackets in an effort to oppress ants through price gouging conventional living goods. At any rate, I digress.

True to its name, most everything about the store was plus sized. The sliding glass doors were at least three stories high, and centered above them read:

M E G A

M  I  N  I

M A R T

Which took up the next few floors worth of advertising space. The Goon Squad approached the doors, and like any other mart, the doors automatically opened and welcomed them in.

The inside was no different in concept and was truly a civil engineering masterpiece. The aisles towered far above, lined with countless shelves of the same product in abundance, but all neatly faced on the shelves for the image of a perfect consistency. Classic supermarket stocking technique. It was as if no warehouse supplied this store and the store was the warehouse itself, but trust me: you don’t want to know about the Mega Mini Mart warehouse.

Accompanying the squad’s fruitless effort of following the aimless Gimp around was the constant, overbearing presence of terrible, easy listening grocery store music belonging to a long lost period of humanity. It played unrelentingly, adding an uncanny feeling to the mysterious absence of anybody else in the store. And so, they wandered.

After about 30 minutes though of walking up and down aisles, and even going in circles, the Kid had to put his foot down on the Gimp, figuratively. “Okay guys. That’s enough. Stop.” They listened for once. “What are we doing? Where is the Gimp taking us?”

Fred shrugged. “I don’t know. He just kinda figures it out. It’s hard for a guy who can’t read, but he finds what he’s looking for.” The Kid leaned in, surprised. “He can’t read?” Looking over to the Gimp, he could see it plainly spelled out on the Gimp’s face that he couldn’t read. Not because he looked like an idiot, but because there was nowhere on his mask for him to see out of. The Kid startled at this revelation. Turning back to Fred and Leslie, he pointed back at the Gimp in shock, “Wait, how does he get around like that? He brought us here! He stopped at stop signs!”

Leslie and Fred shrugged. “The Gimp works in mysterious ways.”

Putting their faith in the Gimp, they finally came conveniently to a shelf of baby powder on the first floor of Aisle 147. There is pain, and then there’s inconvenience and the Gimp was starting to chafe. How he had come to find this went unquestioned, quelling all disbelief from the Kid. From here though, it was simply about navigating to the front of the store and checking out. A simple task. Straightforward.

Yet, the mysterious absence of people was finally answered. With half a hundred check out lines, they were all closed except for Register 1. All the people were waiting in line to checkout. Their arms tired from their groceries, as they so boldly skipped out on a basket like so many fools before, underestimating just how many items they would find they truly needed. It was horrific as they shifted their weight, trying to relieve their sore arms from carrying these groceries. And the line. The merciless line! It extended all the way from the front of the register to the tabloids at the end of the checkout. Rather than seeking alternatives, the squad resolved to endure this test of patience.

Oddly enough, the checkout was normally sized, meaning there was roughly four people in line besides the squad. By this time, Leslie had finished his knitting, producing a nice blue woolen cap for the Kid who accepted it graciously, but was embarrassed to be wearing it in public.

There they stood, waiting in line, with their single container of baby powder inching its way forward slowly across the conveyor belt to the register. Past the register was the exit, guarded by two large men in berets and sunglasses, armed with assault rifles. They stood like statues at attention.

Beep. The attendant placed the baby powder over by the bags at the end of the checkout.

“That’ll be 37 dong, sir,” said the register attendant.

Fred leaned over the counter, incredulously. “37 dong? For some baby powder? You can’t be serious.”

“Have you tried the Mini Mega Mart next door instead?” repeated the attendant.

“Have you tried an asskicking?” Fred was his wit’s end, but conceded. Fred stuffed his hand in his pocket, but followed up with a quick pat down when he realized he’d forgotten something. “Oh shit, I forgot my wallet.” They all met eyes, except the Gimp who can’t fucking see. “Quick, Kid, give me some dong from your purse.”

“What?!” He exclaimed defensively. “Also, it’s a satchel!”

“Purse, satchel, whatever. I know you’re holding out on us.” He gestured to fork it over.

“Awww, c’mon, Fred! I found it! Why do I have to spend it on the Gimp?”

Fred sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes with great vigor. “How many times do I have to tell you, THE GIMP IS A VALUED MEMBER OF THIS FAMILY AND GOD HELP ME IF YOU-”

Fishing out some bills from his purse, the Kid forked over a handful of bills to Fred, clearly displeased. “FINE! TAKE THE STUPID DONG!”

The register attendant was completely unphased by this display.

“Let’s see... “ Fred flipped through the dong. He paused at the end, and then thumbed through it again. He stared off into space for a moment nodding, before he thumbed through it again. Leslie leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “You have 35 dong.”

Fred turned to him, “I knew that. I was getting there. I was just…  making sure.”

“That means we’re two dong short,” Leslie continued.

Again, they were at a crossroads, waiting each other out. Fred eventually caved, and took off his shoe, pulling two additional bills out of it, crumpled from being stuffed into the tip. The flustered Fred tossed the money carelessly across the counter to the register attendant who proceeded as if this was merely an everyday situation. Yet for some reason, Fred made no move to pick up the baby powder, simply staring at the attendant instead.

“Uhh… can I help you, sir? There are other customers waiting.” The attendant pointed down the checkout, where a short, balding man with curly hair was standing with some box mac and cheese.

Fred sat there bouncing his leg, now giving stink eye to the attendant. Leslie approached him, gently placing his hand on his shoulder, “Fred, is there a problem?”

After a moment of strained silence, Fred finally spoke. “You son of a bitch.”

“Sir, is there a problem?” asked the attendant.

“Look, just bag the fucking baby powder.”

“Sir, that’s not in my job description. The customers typically-”

“I did not just pay 37 dong to bag my own baby powder. Are you fucking with me?”

“Sir, that’s not in my-”

“Yeah, you said that already. I heard you. Just bag the powder kid.”

The pair of armed guards had abandoned their post and were now approaching the register in light of the scene that Fred was making. Leslie and the Kid were growing anxious now, pleading with Fred to abandon his pride. He didn’t even need a bag. Just pick it up and take it with him.

“It’s about the principle of the matter now! Just because the vietnamese took over the world, this guy thinks good ol’ human decency is now out the window and we’re living in some kind of post-apocalyptic nightmare where a guy has to bag his own groceries!”

The attendant was picking up his phone and getting ready to dial. “Sir, I am going to have to call my manager if you continue making a scene. Sir, just-”

It was too late. Fred had jumped into the counter, and was trying to grab the phone from the attendant from the other side. “You let me speak to your manager!” One of the guard’s aimed down his sights… and fired.

Everybody flinched from the shot, and when they opened their eyes… they found a man dying on the floor. He coughed and sputtered, but through his pain, uttered his dying words. “Daryl, I know things between us never could have worked out, but…” He turned over and looked up at Fred, whom he had taken the bullet for. It was the balding man from behind them in line. Upon seeing Fred’s face, he collapsed back into the floor. “Oh for fuck’s sake…  I thought you were my ex Daryl from behind. Who the fuck else would wear shorts with juicy written on the back… ?” He trailed off as he passed away.

The squad stared in horror at the armed guards, anticipating the worst.

“Hey bro, toss me some more ammo,” whispered one guard to another.

“What do you mean toss you some more? You only fired one shot!” The other was whisper yelling back.

“Yeah, but that was all I had. Now c’mon!”

“... I don’t got any.”

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t got any?!”

“I thought you had us covered.”

“What?!”

“I didn’t wanna sound dumb, but I didn’t find none.”

“Al, we’re guards!”

However, their argument was cut short because a fight broke out immediately. The Gimp, Leslie, and Fred had taken the opportunity during their arguing to rush the guards, taking them by surprise! With a single devastating back handed bitch slap, the Gimp felled one of the guards, devolving their squabble into a wrestling match on the ground. Fred assisted by kicking and stomping, hitting friend and foe alike. Leslie and his guard were pulling each other around the floor by each other’s shirt collar, scratching at one another’s face and pulling hair.

The Kid took no part in the abuse of the store staff, beet red with embarrassment at the display before him.

The fight was swinging ever further into the Goon Squad’s favor when it was interrupted by the flash of lights turning on somewhere in the darkness above near the monolithic store’s ceiling. The fight ceased and everybody turned to find the silhouette of a man standing proudly on the railing of a cat walk far above. In a graceful sweep, he leapt from the catwalks and in perfect form, dropped the entirety of six stories to deliver a single devastating elbow drop onto the Gimp, defeating him immediately. Rising was a man in laced boots and trunks with wrist cuffs on and a luchadore mask. Along his trunks read, “THE MAN-AGER” and countless tick marks designating numerous customers defeated.

He called out in a booming voice of showmanship, “Who dares to harass my staff?! Speak now, for I have arrived!”

Fred answered his call with a weak right hook, to which the manager dodged. Grabbing Fred by the shoulder and hip, he lifted him above, threw him on the floor, and defeated him instantly with another flying elbow drop. He rose once more.

Leslie came in with one of his famous flying drop kicks, “YEET, B-” But he was cut short! The Man-ager side stepped Leslie as he dropped helplessly to the floor, opening himself up to yet another devastating flying elbow drop. Yet to The Man-ager’s surprise, Leslie had blocked the blow to his ribs with his arm.

Standing once more, The Man-ager was grinning. “Hoho! A worthy foe! A mere elbow drop isn’t sufficient for the likes of you, but we’ll see how you feel about my Muay Thai Body Obliterator.”

I apologize for the interruption, but I cannot describe this move to you. So far, these stories have been rather tame and I would not want to pain any readers with the details the likes of which are involved with the Muay Thai Body Obliterator. I assure you though, that the Muay Thai Body Obliterator is a devastating move that has been banned in all forms of martial arts contests for its lethality and striking disregard for the sanctity of human life. I regret to inform you, that Leslie is the one who must endure such a technique, but fret not! Leslie’s a tough ol’ bird with plenty to live for. He has no time for dying.

The exit was now thoroughly demolished and the setting sun’s light was now pouring onto the shattered tile floor of the Mega Mini Mart. The Squad had been defeated, save for the Kid, who refused to participate in the fight with the staff. Though unconscious, nobody paid with their life. The Man-ager was now wandering from one to another checking up on each person. He straightened himself and turned his focus to the Kid.

“Hey, I sure do appreciate your staying outta cahoots with these here hooligans. Doesn’t do my heart much good to have to hurt folks like this.”

“Oh, no problem! I’m sorry you had to do this. I can take it from here and get them out of your hair,” offered the Kid.

But The Man-ager just laughed and shook his head. “Oh no, that’s not quite how this works I’m afraid.”

The Kid froze. “What do you mean? Surely you want to get rid of us.”

“These fellas have caused me a bit of property damage and I do believe I am in my right to be seeking reparations. I have been in need of some overnight stockers to help me out with runnin’ this operation...”

This was not part of his plan. In his mind, by staying out of the fight, he was demonstrating good will, he was going to apologize on behalf of the others, and everybody would be on their way. This wasn’t the first time things had gotten a little out of hand. Suddenly, however, he was the only one going on his way from this fiasco.

“I don’t need to remind you, but we are closing in 15 minutes.” With that, The Man-ager tossed up the unconscious Gimp over his shoulder, and began making his way over to Fred as well.

“Wait-”

“Unless you would like to join them, I would suggest you take your groceries and see yourself out.”

The Kid was left standing out in front of the Mega Mini Mart, a wool cap on his head and baby powder in his hand, and the sun was now setting.