More storys to make you stop

Volume Two of the collected short works of Andrew McFing. Although only containing ten vary short storys it costs twenty seven dollers at your local bookstore, and it's printed entirely from kind budd stems made into perfumed paper.

A report on cinnamon Teddy Bears

• published in the winter of 2005
• By Fredrich Grope

The last estament of the population of cinnamon teddy bears in north america put them at twenty seven remaining to the whole species. Being this rare and so widely hunted, they are in a mode of reperductive frenzy. The trouble is finding a mate when the species is spread accross north america an average for one hundred and twenty four miles apart. Lots of pouchers in between. Eco terrorists have been leaveing assualt rifles and extra clips hidden with dried deep fryed honey, and varyous roasted nuts for the bears to eat and arm themselves. The sentence for being caught doing such a crime is ten years in the butt slammer. There is a project started by some eco-terrorists to unite males and females into the same area so they can fuck, sounds noble maybe, but they are eco-terrorists, and doing so would be considered an act of eco-terrorism. Oddly enough, the fine for being caught poaching Teddys is sixty bucks. The punsihment for saveing them, up to ten years in prison, and a ten thousand dollar fine per save.

There is rumered to be a small coloney of Cinnamon bears on planet Blue. They are supposed to live to a deep jungle in a group of thirty seven or so.

How I bagged me a cinnamon bear!

Hi I'm Klet Fustens. I'm kinda famous around here because I bagged that cinnamin bear that all the liberals had been crying about. I sold the furr for three thousand dollars. That was worth a few angry phone calls at three in the morning. All I can say is nothing that soft and pudgy was meant to live. They are all almost gone now so I am really proud to have gotten one of the last. I found it in my barn , I quickly closed the door and locked it from the outside. I ran in and grabed my nine milameter. When I got back the little bastard had broken my barn window with a rack and was scrambling out. Well I ,he he he , excuse me , I shot a loud round of lead into it's side and it smacked against the wall and gave me a syrupy wounded look , another round to the chest and it was down. Little fucker broke my window , oh well that three grand more then made up for it. I bought me some night vision glasses for seven hundred dollars. Now I quietly search for them bears at night. Sometimes I leave maple biscuits , or cherry sponge cakes as bait. Still no bears yet , but I'm ready , and I'm gonna cash in!

Other rare animals on my to kill off list

• Woodfish
• CabooshKa
• Unicorn

gangstrousity

Jerby Ermut and Jimmie Shlafflin sipped there meth-coffees and played cards. Before a crime they always nerved up with a card game of war. Only using tarot cards. Together they where the Jade street guns. A robbing stealing out past curfew drug dealing gang. They used to have a third member , Spike Underwood. Spike was shot to death by the Hillside hustlers. The hustlers where a annoying gang of mexican rappers and the Jade street guns vowed to destroy all 14 of them.

Jerby finished his meth-coffee and stood up grinning." Lets get paid my man"! Jimmie packed a sawed-off shotgun into his armored trench coat. Jerby had his chinease bootleg desert eagle and so far it has not exploded in his hands. They had planned this raid for awhile. A Alternative buzz warehouse for a online catalog that sold mind melting herbs and strange uncontrollled chemicals. Best of all this warehouse was on Hillside turf and the owners payed them protection.

Treehouse

Joey Bently and Matt Sumnal sneaked down the alley , in the shadows they where small and unnoticed. They walked on down by the river where the trees grew thick and they had discovered an old abandoned tree house. The two boys said nothing to eachother , and kept a wary gaze about. They climbed the tree and settled into the gently rocking tree house. Joey reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass pipe , red and orange , with purple lines squiggling through out it. He brushed aside some leaves in the corner and located thier lighter , kept dry in a plastic bag they had found in the park. The bag had small crumbs of marijuanna and they had smoked it up one night with no noticable effect. "I got some good chocolate , got em from my aunt. "She digs those boxed choco-variety packs." , Said Joey.

"Cool , I only have a couple handfulls of cigerette butts." Both made faces at the thought. Matt stashed the butts in a zip lock baggie that had once contained his sandwich for school. Joey broke up a dark chocolate oval on the floor of the tree house. He seperated the peanuts in the candy's center and packed all the chocolate into the colorfull pipe. It lit the bowl and inhaled deeply the heavonly rich taste that flowed over him , filling his head torso and groin with shivering tingles of pleasure. He passed the pipe and lighter over to Matt. Young master Sumnal was bathed in a cloud of scented smoke as he took three short quick puffs. A dreamy joy washed accross him starting at the front and soaking to the back of his body. Matt spoke in a dreamy monotone , "That is some good chocolate , I feel it melting my insides with heavy glowing warmth".

"I would like to smoke some jelly beans sometime" , said Joey as he hit the last of the tasty nugget and tapped out the pipe gently along the wall. 

"You know what I wanna smoke?" , asked Matt with a blissfull grin. Joey just shook his head and fished in his pocket for more chocolate. "I want to smoke a girl , put her nipples in a pipe and take a big happy hit!", The boys tittered and giggled and passed around another delicious round of pipe tokes.

Hard times

I'm just hanging around, eating halloween candy. I've got this big orange and yellow sack full of random candies. That's the best part of halloween the sheer randomousity of it all. Nothing like a eight pound sack of sweets and horror movies on t v all night long. Yummy!

Mr. Fabcan and the last days of this stinky world

Mr. Fabcan always thought he would have a good retirement, that in some ways it would be the best days of his life. After all they're is much to be said for not haveing to get up and go to work and all that. He worked for SmithStone merchandizeing for thirty seven years, giveing a percent of each paycheck to his retirement fund, so he could have maple butter sandwitches and imported tea every single meal and not ever have to skipp a meal, but sadly things did not turn out this way. The C E O of the company who had been hired on a couple of years before has decided that he deserves that retirement money more than the employees do, after all he was only a millioniare. He had gone to church on sunday, he had faithfully voted republican all his life. Why had things gone so wrong? He thought the C E O was a card carrying republican, he remembers him indorseing Bush, yet he does a thing like that and gets away with it. The president personally interveneing on his investigation sighting terrorism security secrets are involved that could jepordize the civalized world. He didn't understand all that, but he knew that it was all Hillory Clinton's fault, the wicked witch of the communist ditch. She was behind everything. What the country needs is another war. The one we are currantly in is bogged down, best abandon that one and get on with blowing up a different country, only this time just blow em up and head over to the next target. None of this clean up bull shit, that's where our boys lose thier nuts, or even theyr'e lives. Just fly over, bombs away, fly on back. It's as simple as that. But what went wrong?

Well at least they're was his two hundred and thirty dollers a week from social security. If they would just cut funding on librarys, museums and such they're would be plenty of cash to have a couple more wars going and still enough for him to have a descent retirement. So Mr. Jonathon Fabcan got a can of wolf chili out of his cabinet. He poured it into the sauce pan and he added a few jalipino peppers, some hot picante, and chopped onions to the mix. What a world, what a world. It sucks to be better than everyone else, yet to have to live on the same level as the scum. Not right at all.

Mimi Jones in: Don't trust your neighbors

Lots of terrorists reside within the borders of the United States of America, and not all of them are arab. Some of them are even white, although you won't see these whites at church on sunday, more likely they will be at home nurseing a hangover. These anti-american americans take drugs, and even manufacture them, remember drugs are weapons of mass destruction. Well don't just stand there and take it, do something about it, for the love of Jesus and the children. Join my national club, The Nation Of Narcs. It's a pleasure to Jesus when his good servants snoop.