Corn bugs, pretzels and a blizzard
To actually get this story you have to read Mort, a printer and a new deputy sheriff first.
A/N: Hiya there peoples, I'm back and so is crazy Mort as well. I'm sorry to say that Mr Pissant isn't in this story much; only in the first little bit. Oh well read on!
After about 10 minutes of watching Mort laugh his ass off at his name, Mr Pissant decided that the best thing to do would be to leave while trying not to attract the would-be killers' attention. Mr Pissant turned and was off like a shot towards the car. When he got to the car he turned it around and went like a bat out of hell trying not to be Mort's next victim. Oh I don't care about the job, this town is too dysfunctional for my liking, I'm getting out of here before I turn crazy too! That was the last time the residents of Tashmore Lake ever saw of Mr Pissant although it took more than a month for his cars' tire tracks to fade from the road.
Mort had laughed uncontrollably for just over 10 minutes when he got up off the floor and looked around. The 'deputy sheriff' had gone, leaving him with no amusement. Ah he thought, giving the printer a particularly evil look, maybe there is some amusement around. He went once again, to stand over the printer. Mort grabbed his trusty boat oar which was leaning on the wall nearby aimed and gave a swing. (He had unhooked the unsavory device beforehand) The oar connected with the printer with a mighty crack and sent the printer sailing over the couch and onto the floor with a crunch. Mort grinned psychotically and still holding the oar, bounded down the stairs to see his handiwork and to further wreak his revenge with the air of a happy kid at Christmas.
Mort looked down at the slightly cracked printer on the ground before him and laughed evilly. He went over to the door and opened it, seconds later; the printer went flying out and hit the porch wall. Mort opened his porch door; the printer would have broken a distance record, if it hadn't been for the rather sizeable pine tree blocking its way.
For the last time, Mort stood over the mangled mess, and grinned at his handiwork. "Refuse to work for me and you get what's coming to you." With one last contemptuous kick, Mort turned and headed back to the house, not noticing the gathering storm clouds.
On the way to the porch, Mort decided to celebrate his victory by having a corn feast. He happily flounced over to the corn patch, but he stopped dead when he saw what was happening to his beloved corn. Mort's eye began to twitch and a horrifyingly scary look came onto his face. "WHAT ARE YOU BASTARDS DOING TO MY CORN!" he roared furiously.
TBC
A/N: Well, what do you think? Was that the end of the war of the printer or is there more to come? And what about the corn patch… R&R please if you want me to continue. No flames, I'm kind of unstable from having no chocolate for about a week and I might go on a killing spree and you wouldn't want that nowwould you? Yeah, i thought so (twitch) Anyhoo until next chapter!