Early one Friday morning, Jacob Doyle arose in a hurry. "I'm late!," he exlcaimed. He packed his bags and hustled along the street. The road was alive that day. The wind form the passing cars nearly knocked him off his feets. "Fucking asshats," he shouted. He dodged the swerving traffic, and he scampered across the highway to the nearest 7/11. "Good morning, sir. I would like one Big Gulp and a Fudgy Brown." The store clerk complied with Doyle's requests with a slight snicker. Recalling the immediate image of Doyle's facial structure, and his slightly chipped right front tooth, he couldn't help but utter a slight chuckle unto himself. "Your total today is $6.66." "What, you asshat?!" Doyle yelled at the top of his lungs. " I'll go to WalMart and buy my Frudgy Browns there."
Doyle eagerly departed. His eyes widened with adventure as he thought to himself," OH boy! A trip to WalMart, by myself!" Doyle, gazed intently at the streeght light." "Come on your stupid motherfucking light." As soon as the dropped to green, he dashed across the freeway. "fudgybrownfudgybrownfudgybrownfudgybrowns," his mind endlessly echoed throughout its hollow halls.(ROFL, HOLLOW, NOT HALLOWED.) Doyle safely made it to the WalMart parkinglot without bodily harm.
As soon as he walked into the building, he felt the industria-sized air conditoner blow against his face. "Excuse me, sir, but where are they Fudgy Browns?," he asked the greater. "Son, Fudgy Browns? I'm not familiar with this term."
"YEah, Fudgy Browns. The Little Dobbie Sneck."
"Little Dobbie?"
" Yah, You know, like Zibra cacks."
"Son, I'm not quite understanding what you're saying..."
"FUCKING FUDGY BROWNS. LITTLE DOBBIE."
"Son, calm down now..."
"LITTLE FUCKING DOBBIE. YOU ASSHAT!"
"There's no need for profanity now."
"Now, you're the need. You asshat!"
" Now, noow, son. I think you're just mistaken."
"Look, Frudgy Browns..."
"Do you mean Little Debbie?"
"YEs, Little Dobbie."
"OH! I get it now. Fudge Browns. Aisle Six."
"What a fucking retard," the greeter released to himself as Doyle rushed into the store. Doyle pushed and shoved his way down aisle six, but alas, there were no Fudgy Browns left.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Doyle screamed at the top of his lungs. HE beat his balled fists against his chest. He began to weep, and he pulled sackcloth magically form the air. The JEwish Community slowly congregated around him. The began to pour ashes upon his head, and oil upon his brow.
to be continued in DOYLE'S BIG ADVENTURE PART II.