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scubatankfilledwithfartsSummary: Badou receives some odd text messages from his brother, spurning him into a night of adventure to hopefully kick back with a few drinks and never remember while Dave cries like a bitch over what could have been. Warning warning, high furry voltage. Always read up on the darker corners of the internet before going to eccentric parties for animal enthusiasts.
The only reason Badou even saw the messages was because he woke up at the asscrack of dawn in order to go piss. Thus, once he finished, tucked the fireburd back in, modestly spritzed them hands with water and stumbled back to his luke warm bed, then managed to faceplant, unearthing his dino dildo phone model from beneath his pillow, it was safe to say he spent a good seven minutes squinting and puzzling out the strange texts, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his drool stained face eerily.
At first a smidge of concern began to lace the insides of his belly as his eyes scanned the list of texts- if his brother was texting during a job then he must have fucked up royally, like Anastasia’s bloomers royally, to the point of maybe willing his chicken and broccoli hot pocket to his dear little brother, his only family le-
Badou scowled as realization hit, huffed, threw the phone somewhere beside him, and rolled over, letting out a disgruntled poot as he did so, sure to imbed his wishes of harm and herpes in Dave’s bed.
“You’ve gotta be walkin’ diahrea shittin me…” He grumbled, eye sliding shut and willing his soul to purge that memory from his head so he could get so freaking shut eye.
The first text was filled with glorious purpose and colorful imagery, much like a poem. Of idiocy and shoddy lyric memory.
‘Sharty had them apple bottom jeans, jeans
Boots with dah fur
The hole club lookin 4 hur
Sharty got low low low’
About ten minutes after that came another one:
‘man wat a weird ass costume party lots of bears n a beaver lol but no playboy bunnies
N me w/o my dick in a box
Wtf I just saw a dragon, merlin didn’t even have that many seasons w/o them bangin’
Five minutes later things were even more promising:
‘every1’s gettin in a circle n a platypus just touched my ass
Wat do
Oh god’
Two minutes after that the mounting horror came to a standstill:
‘O GODDSPIJFSDF OD GHEPOFJD THERE R ZIPPERS 4 THEIR SHLONGS
THERES A BUTT FLAPBADOU
HEL’
Ominously, that’s where the messages stopped. As such Badou was satisfied and figured his brothers’ spirit had passed on to the other world peacefully. He’d see him in hell eventually, why trouble himself with the trivial things of life? Didn’t Buddha say some shit like don’t think about stupid fucking ginger brothers that got themselves in trouble and were stupid enough to leave their awesome, helpful little brothers at home where they couldn’t help them? Yeah, that’s exactly how that proverb went.
Unfortunately (????) it seemed as though Dave wasn’t down for the count just yet. From the waves of covers Badou’s piece of shit phone gave a tell tale buzz, lighting muffled against the sheets. With a sigh and a grunt he retrieved it, expecting a turn in the conversation. Probably a drunken one.
He cursed and snagged a tangle of hair in his fingers as his eye scanned over the words, realization dawning with growing horror.
‘I misunderstood wat a furry was. Cum pic me up.’
"NO FUCKIN WAY!" He howled into the night like a wanton mistress, "YOU KNOW ABOUT STUFF- IN-MY-DICK DOT COM BUT NOT FURRIES?! WHAT A MORON, I TOLD YOU ABOUT ACCEPTIN' SHIT ON THE INTERNET, THESE MEET UPS ARE CESSPOOLS OF WEIRDOS BIGGER THAN YOU, NOT TO MENTION THE CUNTIN' HHF!" Which stood for Herpes, Hippies, and Furries. It was a rule of thumb that Badou followed close to the vest.
But he had a decision to make. Ignore the text and face retribution of a turd in his chicken noodle soup tomorrow or combat the forces of his brothers’ dumbass ass and go rescue him from the clutches of some furries?
To this day Badou will never admit he didn’t want to see his occasionally cool brother at the bosom of some dumbass furry cult and will stick with the story that the older redhead had the rent money and he needed the bastard alive if he was going to remain under a relatively leak free roof.
It wasn’t that difficult to hotwire the landlady’s car, and wasn’t too tricky to navigate the topsy turvey curvey and downright fucking dangerous for a twenty something year old without a liscence to be driving by himself in the morning [too many old ladies screaming and trying to throw their purses at him and a suspicious amount of weave flying through the air, where had that come from?!], thirdly the party had been advertised in a flashy manner with flyers explicitly [REAL damn explicit, like NC-17 fanfic explicit, even using the word perineum- only experts have an inkling as to what the fuck that is, hint, butthole’s cousin] so it wasn’t a pain in the ass to locate his wayward dumbass.
The real hard as dicks part? Proving victorious in not running over a furry guest and thus remaining out of jail for at least another week or so. Lions, Tigers, Bears, a bunny, a dragon, [oh my dick] loitered outside party central, smoking and gathering into…piles as far as Badou stared long enough to investigate, and just when he was about to attempt to put the car in reverse and blow that popsicle stand [knowing his brother was possibly blowing with a shark or something at that moment] a familiar girly wail pierced the air. Following that was a flash of bright red emerging from the darkness, upon squinting Badou realized a dragon and a platypus tailed him pretty enthusiastically. He couldn't let Dave let all this popularity get to his head(s), note to self.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, NOW! OPENIT OPEN IT OPEN IT OPENOPENOPEN!” Dave howled like a banshee, heart in his throat, dick in his kidney, fear blowing his pupils wide, accompanying screams and whimpers, along with his zigzagging sprint the only thing he was willing to concentrate on, if only so he wouldn’t trip on his highway away from hairball hell. It felt like eternity had taken a massive shit and had to root around the bathroom for makeshift tp but eventually Dave barreled into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him and locking it with fervor.
Wild eyed and voice very much hoarse he directed his darling little brother oh so lovingly.
“DRIVE, DRIVE, NOW, DRIVE! HURRY THE FUCK UP, PUT THE PEDAL TO THE METAL AND IF YOU DON’T I’M GONNA BUY YOU A CALENDER FULL OF STRETCHED FORESKIN YOU LITTLE—“ Before the hysterical wannabe Clark Kent could finish his creative threat Badou did as he was bidden, turning sharply and causing his preciously traumatized cargo to pitch not only a bitch but his face into the dashboard.
“That’s what you get for not being in your carseat with your seatbelt on, you foreskin obsessed freak of nature,” Badou tutted, even going as far as clucking his tongue and shaking his head like some goddamn granny! If Dave wasn’t trembling and rocking in his seat, wide eyed and terrified and traumatized and many other ‘ized’s he’d probably strangle the kid. Maybe later.
A calm, albeit creepy, silence washed over the car as they drove back home and narrowly avoided accidents, when Badou suddenly couldn’t take the suspense anymore. So, eye narrowed on his sloppy, disheveled [was that a…tail sticking out of his-] and disoriented brother, mouth thinned into a flat line, hands at ten and two forty five, he finally voiced his thoughts.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK FURRY MEANT YOU GIANT WAD OF ANAL FISSURES?!”
Dave’s breath hitched and his adam’s apple bobbed anxiously, the gaze he fixed on his brother imploring and pathetic and a little teary. His voice shook, haunted, as he rasped, “An unshaved vagina. A cluttered cootch. Fuck, I didn’t even get the number on that bunny girl…I woulda liked to have her bunny hop all over my dick.”
As Badou stared at his cherished one and only brother, he felt a great tremor build within his body. First at his knees, then his hips, crawling [INNNNNNNNN THIS SKIIIIIIIIN THIS PISS IT WILL NOT DRYYYYY] into his belly, building around his shoulders like an earthquake, and finally, his mouth wobbled and quivered and popped open and the most horrid, leaky, whimpery and overall ear splitting laughter spilled out from chapped lips. Thus it was that laughter, equally kind of heavy and hitching like a donkey’s mating ritual, coupled with Dave’s battle cry and hands reaching for the younger redheads neck, that caused them to collide with a nearby parked car.
Upon assessing the gingery damage and purposely duke-ing it out briefly with elbows and hands and a knee or two aimed at the dick, they emerged worse for ware, and simultaneously peered into the horizon, highlighted with the oncoming sunrise.
Dave lit a cigarette, took a drag, and passed it to his brother. “Let’s never speak of this again.”
Relishing the initial stingtickle at the back of his throat followed by that blissful rush of nicotine, Badou chuckled without humor. “We won’t live to test that oath. Not even a Klingon oath could save us now.”
Dave grunted an affirmative. A beat of silence, then, “Just don’t tell this story at my wedding. I plan for interracial porno to wrap up the night and I don’t want you ruining the mood.”
The donkey hitching bitching boning laughter started up again, the cigarette’s charred life was lost to the street below, here comes the sun. It was almost poetry in motion. Ginger rage motion.
The only reason Badou even saw the messages was because he woke up at the asscrack of dawn in order to go piss. Thus, once he finished, tucked the fireburd back in, modestly spritzed them hands with water and stumbled back to his luke warm bed, then managed to faceplant, unearthing his dino dildo phone model from beneath his pillow, it was safe to say he spent a good seven minutes squinting and puzzling out the strange texts, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his drool stained face eerily.
At first a smidge of concern began to lace the insides of his belly as his eyes scanned the list of texts- if his brother was texting during a job then he must have fucked up royally, like Anastasia’s bloomers royally, to the point of maybe willing his chicken and broccoli hot pocket to his dear little brother, his only family le-
Badou scowled as realization hit, huffed, threw the phone somewhere beside him, and rolled over, letting out a disgruntled poot as he did so, sure to imbed his wishes of harm and herpes in Dave’s bed.
“You’ve gotta be walkin’ diahrea shittin me…” He grumbled, eye sliding shut and willing his soul to purge that memory from his head so he could get so freaking shut eye.
The first text was filled with glorious purpose and colorful imagery, much like a poem. Of idiocy and shoddy lyric memory.
‘Sharty had them apple bottom jeans, jeans
Boots with dah fur
The hole club lookin 4 hur
Sharty got low low low’
About ten minutes after that came another one:
‘man wat a weird ass costume party lots of bears n a beaver lol but no playboy bunnies
N me w/o my dick in a box
Wtf I just saw a dragon, merlin didn’t even have that many seasons w/o them bangin’
Five minutes later things were even more promising:
‘every1’s gettin in a circle n a platypus just touched my ass
Wat do
Oh god’
Two minutes after that the mounting horror came to a standstill:
‘O GODDSPIJFSDF OD GHEPOFJD THERE R ZIPPERS 4 THEIR SHLONGS
THERES A BUTT FLAPBADOU
HEL’
Ominously, that’s where the messages stopped. As such Badou was satisfied and figured his brothers’ spirit had passed on to the other world peacefully. He’d see him in hell eventually, why trouble himself with the trivial things of life? Didn’t Buddha say some shit like don’t think about stupid fucking ginger brothers that got themselves in trouble and were stupid enough to leave their awesome, helpful little brothers at home where they couldn’t help them? Yeah, that’s exactly how that proverb went.
Unfortunately (????) it seemed as though Dave wasn’t down for the count just yet. From the waves of covers Badou’s piece of shit phone gave a tell tale buzz, lighting muffled against the sheets. With a sigh and a grunt he retrieved it, expecting a turn in the conversation. Probably a drunken one.
He cursed and snagged a tangle of hair in his fingers as his eye scanned over the words, realization dawning with growing horror.
‘I misunderstood wat a furry was. Cum pic me up.’
"NO FUCKIN WAY!" He howled into the night like a wanton mistress, "YOU KNOW ABOUT STUFF- IN-MY-DICK DOT COM BUT NOT FURRIES?! WHAT A MORON, I TOLD YOU ABOUT ACCEPTIN' SHIT ON THE INTERNET, THESE MEET UPS ARE CESSPOOLS OF WEIRDOS BIGGER THAN YOU, NOT TO MENTION THE CUNTIN' HHF!" Which stood for Herpes, Hippies, and Furries. It was a rule of thumb that Badou followed close to the vest.
But he had a decision to make. Ignore the text and face retribution of a turd in his chicken noodle soup tomorrow or combat the forces of his brothers’ dumbass ass and go rescue him from the clutches of some furries?
To this day Badou will never admit he didn’t want to see his occasionally cool brother at the bosom of some dumbass furry cult and will stick with the story that the older redhead had the rent money and he needed the bastard alive if he was going to remain under a relatively leak free roof.
It wasn’t that difficult to hotwire the landlady’s car, and wasn’t too tricky to navigate the topsy turvey curvey and downright fucking dangerous for a twenty something year old without a liscence to be driving by himself in the morning [too many old ladies screaming and trying to throw their purses at him and a suspicious amount of weave flying through the air, where had that come from?!], thirdly the party had been advertised in a flashy manner with flyers explicitly [REAL damn explicit, like NC-17 fanfic explicit, even using the word perineum- only experts have an inkling as to what the fuck that is, hint, butthole’s cousin] so it wasn’t a pain in the ass to locate his wayward dumbass.
The real hard as dicks part? Proving victorious in not running over a furry guest and thus remaining out of jail for at least another week or so. Lions, Tigers, Bears, a bunny, a dragon, [oh my dick] loitered outside party central, smoking and gathering into…piles as far as Badou stared long enough to investigate, and just when he was about to attempt to put the car in reverse and blow that popsicle stand [knowing his brother was possibly blowing with a shark or something at that moment] a familiar girly wail pierced the air. Following that was a flash of bright red emerging from the darkness, upon squinting Badou realized a dragon and a platypus tailed him pretty enthusiastically. He couldn't let Dave let all this popularity get to his head(s), note to self.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, NOW! OPENIT OPEN IT OPEN IT OPENOPENOPEN!” Dave howled like a banshee, heart in his throat, dick in his kidney, fear blowing his pupils wide, accompanying screams and whimpers, along with his zigzagging sprint the only thing he was willing to concentrate on, if only so he wouldn’t trip on his highway away from hairball hell. It felt like eternity had taken a massive shit and had to root around the bathroom for makeshift tp but eventually Dave barreled into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him and locking it with fervor.
Wild eyed and voice very much hoarse he directed his darling little brother oh so lovingly.
“DRIVE, DRIVE, NOW, DRIVE! HURRY THE FUCK UP, PUT THE PEDAL TO THE METAL AND IF YOU DON’T I’M GONNA BUY YOU A CALENDER FULL OF STRETCHED FORESKIN YOU LITTLE—“ Before the hysterical wannabe Clark Kent could finish his creative threat Badou did as he was bidden, turning sharply and causing his preciously traumatized cargo to pitch not only a bitch but his face into the dashboard.
“That’s what you get for not being in your carseat with your seatbelt on, you foreskin obsessed freak of nature,” Badou tutted, even going as far as clucking his tongue and shaking his head like some goddamn granny! If Dave wasn’t trembling and rocking in his seat, wide eyed and terrified and traumatized and many other ‘ized’s he’d probably strangle the kid. Maybe later.
A calm, albeit creepy, silence washed over the car as they drove back home and narrowly avoided accidents, when Badou suddenly couldn’t take the suspense anymore. So, eye narrowed on his sloppy, disheveled [was that a…tail sticking out of his-] and disoriented brother, mouth thinned into a flat line, hands at ten and two forty five, he finally voiced his thoughts.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK FURRY MEANT YOU GIANT WAD OF ANAL FISSURES?!”
Dave’s breath hitched and his adam’s apple bobbed anxiously, the gaze he fixed on his brother imploring and pathetic and a little teary. His voice shook, haunted, as he rasped, “An unshaved vagina. A cluttered cootch. Fuck, I didn’t even get the number on that bunny girl…I woulda liked to have her bunny hop all over my dick.”
As Badou stared at his cherished one and only brother, he felt a great tremor build within his body. First at his knees, then his hips, crawling [INNNNNNNNN THIS SKIIIIIIIIN THIS PISS IT WILL NOT DRYYYYY] into his belly, building around his shoulders like an earthquake, and finally, his mouth wobbled and quivered and popped open and the most horrid, leaky, whimpery and overall ear splitting laughter spilled out from chapped lips. Thus it was that laughter, equally kind of heavy and hitching like a donkey’s mating ritual, coupled with Dave’s battle cry and hands reaching for the younger redheads neck, that caused them to collide with a nearby parked car.
Upon assessing the gingery damage and purposely duke-ing it out briefly with elbows and hands and a knee or two aimed at the dick, they emerged worse for ware, and simultaneously peered into the horizon, highlighted with the oncoming sunrise.
Dave lit a cigarette, took a drag, and passed it to his brother. “Let’s never speak of this again.”
Relishing the initial stingtickle at the back of his throat followed by that blissful rush of nicotine, Badou chuckled without humor. “We won’t live to test that oath. Not even a Klingon oath could save us now.”
Dave grunted an affirmative. A beat of silence, then, “Just don’t tell this story at my wedding. I plan for interracial porno to wrap up the night and I don’t want you ruining the mood.”
The donkey hitching bitching boning laughter started up again, the cigarette’s charred life was lost to the street below, here comes the sun. It was almost poetry in motion. Ginger rage motion.
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