Run home screamingMature

Tyrone had had enough of that shit.

'I've had enough of this shit.' he yelped, as he ran zombie-like, his tongue out, his eyes lolling and his arms held up limply before him, down the mountains and out of that shit hole.

The air was chill and Tyrone soon began to feel the prickles of goose bumps spreading over his skin. He wanted to go home, but he missed his buddies. Home was never much fun without Eddie and the gang. He wished that they hadn't died of that mixture of pneumonia and alcoholism ... and, in one case, no reason at all.

He sat down on a rock in the middle of nowhere and thought about all the good times that they had had. When they had travelled up to Heaven, to see God. Ah, what a laugh that was.

'Fuckin' pussies had to die, din't they!' he yelled into the night. 'Fuckin' got a bit fuckin' cold and keeled over on't shitty couch!'

Tyrone suddenly sat in silence for a moment thinking. A thought had just occurred to him. Something that was the answer to all of Tyrone's troubles. Something that made it all fit.

'My life would be so fuckin' better if I 'ad that shitty couch.' he suddenly exclaimed, and then punched himself in the nose. 'Why didn't I think of that before! Tyrone your a silly cunt, aren't y'?'

He got up and stretched. Then he looked at his arm, a little taken aback, for his skin had started to deteriorate, right down to the bone. He screamed and ran away ... ultimately, from himself.

Soon he discovered that the street on which he was crawling over, on hands and knees, was Eddie's street. Thoughts of his own scraggy body drifted from his mind. Shitty couch!

He stumbled right up to the front room window of Eddies house and peered through the window, his whole face, tongue, lolling eyes and all, pressed against the glass.

He shrieked like a pussy again at what scene met his repulsive eyes.

The fuckers that used to be Tyrone's friends, excluding Eddie (who was batting it around the general cave area) were laying sprawled abound the room, still dead, exactly how Tyrone had left them - except somehow, they looked even uglier. But this was not what made Eddie shriek. It was the emptiness of the room that made his still, cold heart ache.

'Some mad fuckers robbed our shit!' He exclaimed. 'The big TV with the hairy eyeballs ... the shitty couch ... all gone!'

He shrieked again, multiple times, until something touched his shoulder. He gazed up, bewildered, at the smiling, angelic face of the bearded dude he had previously seen. His head seemed to be floating a few inches from his neck, though.

'I will start to explain -' Lazarus began, his palms pressed together as thought in prayer, but he was interrupted my Tyrone's deadly mach punch.

'Fuck you, niggah!'

Suddenly, Tyrone was overcome with tears. He sobbed into the night. He sobbed for his friends, for his mangled skin, for the unfairness of it all, but most of all, he sobbed for the shitty couch.


Should Tyrone:

The End

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