The Little Fire Alarm

In a far away land, there is a town of fire alarms. It was great! No one ever melted and 9 volt batteries flowed like fine wine.

However, there was a little fire alarm that no one ever pulled. Never was tugged on once for his whole life. So, he ran away!

On his journey, he came across light bulbs that didn’t fit into sockets. Clocks with missing arms and a building with no windows.

They decided to stick together and form a nightclub. Not just any nightclub, but one for all to come to. Everyone could enjoy it!

One night, the band Fire Xplosion came to play. Known for their theatrics and not their musical talent. It was coming near the end of the set and they always set off fireworks.

This time, however, the wires were exposed and amps started blowing up. People were scared, but not the little fire alarm. He knew what to do.

People ran and screamed and everyone was almost out. The little fire alarm was worried. Would he miss his little chance?

Then some one grabbed him with a mighty yank and he chimed that bell like an irritated rich asshole calling their butler!

Everyone was saved! Except the burned out building, the Salvador Dali clocks, busted bulbs and the used fire alarm. Nobody wants a used fire alarm.

Little Fat Red Riding Hood

Once upon a time, in a trailer park, was fat little girl who had little to no friends, except for her gran’ma, who saw past her diabetic state and encouraged things like coloring, dress-up and playing with dolls. On one cool fall day, gran’ma gave her gran’girl a red hooded cape that was now five sizes too small. The lil chubby loved it so much though she never took it off and was from there on called ‘Little Fat Red Riding Hood’.

Early one morning she was woken up by a loud noise: “Eh, fat fuck! Get yer ass outta bed an’ go to yer gran’ma’s! She’s expecting a dozen donuts and a 12 pack of beer! Her scooter broke down and she won’t get off my ass about’em! You better leave now before you start sweating buckets and get another heat rash! Don’t waddle so much, either, goddamnit! Last time you brought gran’ma beer you tripped and every one of them was flat! Don’t forget to knock, too! She almost shot yer fat ass last time!”

“I won’t ma!” She put her hand out and her mother gave her a twenty.

“Now get!”

The gran’ma lived in a junkyard ten blocks away. As soon as she arrived at the gates she was greeted by the junkyard dog. Little Fat Red Riding Hood knew about him and didn’t lose her shit like a fucking retard.

“What the fuck are you doing here!?”

“I’m here to see my gran’ma, dog!”

“What’s in the backpack?”

“Beer and donuts; my gran’ma is waiting for them. I better get there quick, I don’t want her mad at me, dog.”

“Where does she live, fatty?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. She’s just past the rusty cars? The trailer on top of the washer machines?”

The junkyard dog was well aware of where gran’ma lived. He never thought about eating her before, but now that there is a plump and juicy little fat girl with beer and donuts, he just could not resist!

“How could I have forgotten?!”

The junkyard dog followed along with Little Fat Red Riding Hood for a little bit and mentioned: “Look at all this stuff. I bet your gran’ma would love something to go with her treats. Look around. Do you hear the seagulls? You’re walking past all these beautiful trinkets.”

“Hey, you’re right, dog!” Little Fat Red Riding Hood stopped and found a cabbage patch doll, then a music box, then a gold chain! Right then she heard the sweet angelic voice of the seagulls and looked up. Just when she did, a bird shit in her eye.

Blinded by poo she staggered deeper and deeper into the junkyard until she was finally able to clear the crap out of her eyes.

The junkyard dog seized this opportunity and booked it to gran’ma’s trailer. He knocked on the screen.

“Who is that!? Whatdya want?”

“It’s Little Fat Red Riding Hood gran’ma!” replied the dog. “I brought you beer and donuts!”

“Well, let yerself in girl. I can’t get outta bed. Don’t let any skeeters in!”

Tearing through the screen and without warning the junkyard dog lunges at her in the recliner and goes to town on buffet gran’ma. He closed the curtains then put on her muumuu, shower cap and kicks his feet up in her recliner.

Meanwhile, in the junkyard, Little Fat Red Riding Hood had collected so many trinkets her pockets were full. Having completely forgotten why she was digging through trash she exclaimed: “Oh shit! Gran’ma hates warm beer!” and darted toward her mobile home.

Walking up to the trailer, she noticed the hole in the screen and figured it was gran’ma’s cats. She banged on the screen to no answer. Not wanting to be shot she called out: “Gran’ma?” Still nothing. She slowly crept in and was confronted with a horrible stench. “What the hell is that smell gran’ma?! It’s making me sick.” She walked to the window to open the curtains and air out the trailer. When she turned around she jumped.

“Oh shit, gran’ma!” she screamed “You scared the hell out of me!”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, fatass,” was the reply.

“But, gran’ma, why aren’t you smoking?” she ask.

“I quit smoking since last you saw me, idiot.”

“But, gran’ma, why are your feet so nasty?”

“I’ve been digging through the junkyard, dumbass!”

“Oh, right, but gran’ma? What’s that smell? Did you shit yerself again?”

“Goddamnit, I’ve had enough of this!”

And with a bark so loud, the junkyard dog froze Little Fat Red Riding Hood where she stood giving him time to enjoy her, the beer and the donuts.

After getting his fill, he went back to the recliner and slipped into a people, beer and donuts coma.

Down in the junkyard, a mechanic came strolling in. Looking for parts he could hear snoring from the trailer: “She must be home. Good, cause I can’t find heater controls for my ’63 Chevy pickup.” Looking through the screen he asks: “Granny, can you help me?” only to hear more snoring. The mechanic let himself only to find the junkyard dog.

“You sonofabitch! Get outta here! You ain’t supposed to be here!” Reaching for gran’ma’s shotgun to scare the dog that’s when he saw her air tank. “You fucking mutt! You ate granny!”

He reached for gran’ma’s coupon cutters and started to cut. Out fell Little Fat Red Riding Hood, then gran’ma with little chunks of beer soaked donuts. “Oh my God! I couldn’t breathe! Real gran’ma’s feet stink even more!” Gran’ma was having a hard time breathing and the mechanic quickly put on her oxygen.

Furious at the junkyard dog, Little Fat Red Riding Hood ran outside and grabbed as many dirty diapers as she could and stuffed the dog with them. Once he awoke he tried to run but couldn’t because he was full of shit and died.

The three couldn’t have been happier. The mechanic got his part, gran’ma went back to watching reruns of The Price Is Right (with Bob Barker, not that skinny ass Drew Carey imposter) and Little Fat Red Riding Hood grew up to be meth dealer we all knew she would be. She lost all that weight, had to many kids and lived to the ripe ol’age of sixteen.