Post by Hotdog Mascot on Nov 4, 2009 12:07:08 GMT -5
Origins III
Ground Control to Major Bun
Ground Control to Major Bun
Awaking the next morning, Tina immediately felt his arm that still throbbed after his Father’s encounter the night before. It remained sore and he traced his innocent thoughts back to understand why his Father felt the need to sneak into his room last night and grab onto his arm like a prize winning bass. He didn’t ponder it very much, he believed in his Dad, he was comfortable with his demented wisdom. During the think back to last night, he then remembered what made the pain go away, what caused him to drift to sleep so peacefully. It was the sound of his Father’s words being cut short with a frying pan, it was the sound of murder. Mother had killed Daddy, or, so he thought. Desperately curious to find out, Tina threw the warm blankets from his body and raced down the stairs. Turning into the kitchen, he took in the sight in front of him, an image that would surely haunt his dreams forever. His Father, Woody, laid among the kitchen floor with a dried sticking pool of blood surrounding his head. His Mother, calmly stood at the stove counter preparing the ritual morning hotdog breakfast. No words flew from his wide opened mouth, only silence. He realized something was perfectly wrong with the disturbing scene, but, the more seconds passed, his brain naturally began to acknowledge it as an average Tuesday in the household. He tip toped over his Father’s corpse carefully trying not to stain his new socks and sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. His Mother turned around with a platter of fresh cooked hotdog’s.
Mother: How many would you like this morning?
Pounding his fists in the table and drumming his feet on the floor, the annual day to day hotdog feast arouse his excitement in even the most disturbing circumstances.
Tina: Two!
An emotionless mother stared off into space while dropping two plain bunned dog’s onto her Son’s awaiting plate. He happily nodded and shoved the end of a hotdog into his mouth.
Mother: And two for your Father.
She calmly walked over to his Father’s corpse and set a pair of hotdog’s by his cracked skull.
