Chapter1

Peace and quiet. This is all Sir James Charles McJackrabbit needed as he lounged back in his early 20th century exquisite chair. He puffed away on his marijuana filled cigar. Needlessly to say, he was stoned out of his mind. Grinning, he realized he had been attracted to Devon Shell's sister, Heaven Bell. He had never personally met with her, but had talked to her on the social networking site Myspace.com occasionally. She seemed attractive, but he was getting kind of TO'd because she hadn't sent him a full body shot yet. Oh well. He could at least imagine how delicious her body was. Visions of kiwi-strawberry whipped cream and cherries flashed through his head. "Oh yes, James! Don't let off of that whipped cream! Fill me up all the way!" Dreamily, James dreamed. "WAKE UP, SIR!" James looked up. "SIR, WE HAVE A TURTLE INVASION!" James looked out of his window. The sight nearly ripped his breath out of his lungs. Millions upon millions of turtles were in his front yard. James screamed. "Oh, my God! I surely hope Professor McRabrab's invention works! He pulled the level sitting next to his couch. The grass in his yard dissapeared. All the turtles fell into a huge cooking pot and were instantly boiled. Eugene, Jame's servant flashed a goofy grin. "Looks like we'll be having turtle soup tonight, boss!" James laughed at Eugene's bold humor. "You've done well, Eugene. Bring your pillow into my room, for you'll be sleeping with me tonight. And I do believe we have some kiwi-strawberry whipped cream and cherries."

Incredible.

literary masterpiece

You're making me jealous...

Insane.

You have left me speechless.

Tight props. Respect! Work of fiction.

Chapter 2 (charles experiments with alcohol)

Charles James McJackrabbit woke up. He chugged a bottle of whiskey down. He was drunk out of his mind. He listened to tool. The Patient to be exact. He hated being drunk. He just felt like he was out of control. Like all his emotions had the power to (-) him over. He hated it. It was like an evil substance that was designed just to destroy him. Why would anyone want to drink? WHY WOULD ANY SANE HUMAN BEING WANT TO PUT THIS KIND OF THING ON THEM? It's disgusting. It's seriously the most filthy, retarded thing to do. Why would you even destroy your mind with such a thing? It's like exposing an open wound to salt. Imagine bringing your deepest feelings out to the surface just to be tortured, just to be (-)ed with. Just to make yourself feel like your whole life was just a waste, just leading up to a single moment where you feel like your whole existence was just a joke, just God seeing how much he could torture you and (-) with you. Like why does a fermented substance create the state of mind of being drunk? James had no idea and he didn't care. He put his .50 cal pistol to his head and pulled the trigger. His head exploded.

the end

Shockingly moving and powerful piece. It's quite a rarity that one captures such suspense and a sense of social commentary in an artful work of fiction. Though, I feel it leaves little room for a third chapter.

Ceci n'est pas une épique.

hah, if you looked at this from a psychological point of view, which seems more appealing: alcohol or weed?

Alcohol; I can make a week's supply in a few hours, it can be made to explode and it comes in so many tasty varieties.