Looking back the road wasn't that rough. Sure things happen. I mean, I couldn't have been the only one to watch a garden gnome spontaneously combust while he was "Sweatin' to the Oldies" with me and Richard Simmons. And sure, there was the time me and Gotz played that game where I scare him out of a tree and he becomes a quadriplegic. And then there was the time me and Olivia Newton John broke out into song at a random carnival…wait…no…that was John Travolta, not me. I sometimes think what it would be like had I ended up in Chicago pursuing my true passion, Polka music. I was the bomb shit of Polka. I played a clarinet that would make Marge Thatcher sweat. But the times I do remember, they are good, they are better than good, they the best times of my life as a farmer. I, Jack Mehoff, the local agrarian and riverdance enthusiast.
I once had quite the notable time with Gray. His whole beef was that he didn't have a beef. He was just one sullen ass dude. That brooding angst shit, chicks love it. This dude got more ass than a toilet seat. He thought it would be funny to go mess with Basil, the local town botanist and tattoo artist. I'll tell you what, my man could tattoo an American flag on Osama bin Laden he was so good. He gave Harris a tattoo that says something to the effect of "Mommy's Lil' Wanksta'." That's bullshit because everybody knows the mayor isn't married. He reproduces asexually. His offspring all become rental cops or join "Maria's One Juggler and Six Mexicans That Can Make a Human Pyramid" Circus. That to is ironic, I mean, the mayor is definitely Icelandic, only Icelanders can reproduce asexually. That is why they're so good at hockey; they all sprout from Emilio Estevez. Hey, if he was good enough for the Mighty Ducks he is good enough for me. Back on topic, Gray wanted to bust Basil's balls a little, get the old juices going so to speak. He asked me to go get a llama and I was like "Does is look like we are in the Andes of Peru…No…We are definitely in Iceland. Only in Iceland can you hire little elf dudes to water your fields and what not." So we settled on a sheep. Gray took the sheep into Basil's house and waited for him to come home. When basil returned and flicked on the lights ever so nonchalantly, Gray removed his authentic Michael Jackson sequined glove and began to slap my sheep across his wooly noggin'. He said unto Basil "Fuck You"…"Fuck Yo' Sheep, You Dark, Blackness Mothafucka." At first I thought it was funny, but then I realized he stole that off Dave Chappelle so it took the humor out of it. Then I thought to myself "Self,…Is not that your sheep being bludgeoned by a man who sings Thriller in his sleep." Anyway, I was mad because he eventually killed my sheep. Basil needed counseling for the next five years. Gray would die three days later in a horrible blimp accident. I would revive my sheep because Pokemon trainers don't front and they can do that kinda' shit, bitches.
Then there was the time, before that fateful day where Gotz fell to his near mortal wounding, when me and Gotz went on a big adventure. I mean this adventure made Bill and Ted look like they were sitting in their living room. Ok, here it goes:
Myself and Gotz were playing two man spin the bottle in my chicken coop when we started to get bored. He wasn't that good of a kisser, his beard tickled and he slipped the tongue in at inopportune times. Any way, we decided to go on a walk to the top of Mother's Hill. I was slightly sore because I have been lifting as of late and the glute-hamstring exercises I have been doing gave me sore legs. But all was not lost, no sir, I could crush a walnut between my asscheeks, which would come in handy if Gotz was to try anything funny I would shear his penis right off. So anyway we ate bamboo on the way up, it was good. We stopped in the mine to grab some quick cash. Gotz made a hobby out of insulting my mother as he broke solid stones over his head. But, then again, what do you expect. He's Icelandic, that is how they show affection. Anyway, we almost got to the top when I had an idea. Let's ask that silly man what he is doing. I happened to be everybody's favorite boy band member Lance Bass. He's such a dreamboat. Anyway, as soon as set eyes on Gotz's stunning manliness he burst into flames, only to be saved when everybody's favorite boy band boy-toy Justin Timberlake cried a river directly on to him. I'm talking directly, that JTimb is a good shot. Anyway we got to the top of the mountain and Gotz pushed me off, that bastard. I thought I was falling to certain doom until I was saved by an angel…wait…no…it was Bluffington's own Percy Femur. What, you didn't know that Bluffington, the home of Doug Funnie, was on the other side of Mother's Hill. So me, Doug, Skeeter Valentine, Chalky Studebaker, BeBe Bluff, Patty Mayonnaise, Percy Femur, Roger Klotz, all of us, we all through a bitchin' party and Patty showed everybody her boobies. It was like a scene from Eurotrip minus Tara Ried, actually Tara Reid may have been there I was too wasted to remember. The next day Gotz was in a tree trying to catch squirrels for dinner when I walked up and yelled "Penn and Teller are coming to a town near you," at him and startled him. He fell out of the tree. Granted, he can no longer use his arms, but he'll never push me out of a tree again.
Then there was one time I was in the town square and I was talking to Barley, that silly old man. He was sitting there all cracked out like old men do and then he saw me and I saw him and his most glaring physical feature, his perpetual boner. The man is a poster child for Cialis. Legend has it that he one ate a pound of boner pills for 7g and the hot new Shakira CD. I talked to him to see if that four hour thing worked. Well…It didn't. So I stood in the squared and talked to him for 2 more weeks. He's an old man, those guys can bullshit forever. Anyway, it looked like his serpent was angry and that's the way it was staying. So I can to the conclusion that he has a petrified wiener. It's stuck like that. Poor guy, I feel bad for him. He died the next day in a horrible tomato fight accident. He later found out that he doesn't really have a boner, his pants just tent funny. What a waste of time.
And of the rest I can't recall. All that I know is that now I'm attempting to take over the world with a tooth brush and a piece of tinfoil.
-BooBoo
A bit about me:
I joined in May of 2001. I wrote my last fan fiction April of 2002. I was 13 at the time. Recently me and the person who introduced me to Harvest Moon and Zack McKee, were talking about the stories I used to write. I looked them up and then realized that I remembered both my e-mail and my password so I decided to make a small comeback. I am busy in college with schoolwork and football (yes, real college football), so I don't have time to write often, but when I do I'd like to return to my Fan Fiction writing prime. I referred to myself as the "Original King of Harvest Moon Comedy" above. To tell you the truth I was, I was 13 and a sick little bastard. Hell, I have a fiction on page 39 of 41. Please read my old shit if you haven't yet, I think it is pretty funny for a 13 year old. The first series of fictions I wrote was a trilogy containing my works "The Idiot and the Odd-essy", "You Only Die Twice," and "Mythril is Forever." I wrote a pretty coherent set of stories there. Anyway, I'm like the Dr. Dre of Harvest Moon comedy, I was the first person to write it consistently, and I must say, I had it mastered. Anyway, please comment and if you like this I'll write more, and be nice, this is my first fiction in nearly 4 years.