wr_post18:subj_fict

SCRAPPY SQUIRREL AND THE FUCKED UP WEASEL KING

so, check it, there was this squirrel right. he was like the runt of his litter or some shit. so like he was small, right, so the story goes that he was also really plucky. yaknow. scrappy. a fighter. its archetypal. so cool, right. so scrappy lived with his brothers and sisters in this tree. and when the winter was coming one year they were all like 'yo. lets get some food together for the long winter so we dont starve.' and then there was like a story about a grasshopper and an ant. yeah, i know, like squirrels know those stories too, right. so they all started harvesting. but scrappy was like 'fuck that shit.' i'm gonna go piss on people walking past the tree. cuz he was a badass, yaknow. so winter came and he mooched. and that was cool sorta. cuz like in a family, you often get that crazy uncle or whatever who just sits around and yells at the tv. and you're like 'why we gotta put up with that shit' and your moms cuffs you in the head and's all like 'language. he's my brother and he's your elder. you show some respect.' and you's like 'damn moms.'
so like he ate all their food. and everyone did alright. but then it was like the coldest day of the whole winter. they didnt know it, right, but like looking back on the event and all, that's like how it was. word is bond. and so like this weasel comes by the tree and knocks on the door. i know right, a door? and comes in cuz the other squirrels are pussies, but scrappy's like 'yo, that dude's trouble. look at his eyes, yo.' but no one listened. and later that night, like the weasel fucking ate the other squirrels. and he came by scrappy's room and was like 'yo, i just ate your family and you're next.' and scrappy's like 'shit dog. why's it gotta be this way. why's there so much hate in the rap game. cant we just sip some thug passion and collaborate on some fat tracks?' and the weasel had like a change of heart, cuz he was like an alcoholic or some shit and liked drinking and dropping rhymes. and they went into the booth, but then when the beat started in and scrappy was like 'yo, what the hook gon' be?' and the weasel was like 'i don't need no motherfucking hook on this beat. all i need is a...' and then scrappy capped him through the glass with his tek. and stood over the weasel and was like 'yo, this one's for my moms' and put two in the weasels head and dropped the gun and walked off and the camera was like close-up on his eyes. and he had this stare like you looked at it and you was all 'shit dog' only slow, like 'shiiiiiit dooooog.' and then it pulled out to an aerial view of scrappy walking slow-mo through a plaza smoking a cig and he puts on his glasses and then it goes to black and there's like fucking guitar riffs or 'kashmir' or something. and its like 'directed by barry sonnenstein, produced by marty lefkowitz....' and then you walk out of the theater and light up a cig and put on some glasses and the camera pulls out as you walk to your car. and then scrappy wakes up in a cold sweat and goes to the door of the tree and the weasel is standing there and he's like 'nooooooooo' and it zooms in down his throat and goes to black and the credits roll again, but this time the names are different. and you sit there and you're like, that was lame. and then the theater explodes and you're flying out of the wreckage onto the hood of a camaro and you look inside and its will smith and martin lawrence. and they're like 'bad boys for life, yo' and you're all 'that movie sucked my left nut.' and then you wake up and your left nut is missing. and you're lance armstrong and you fuck sheryl crow, maybe or something.