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Thread: Little No-Leg Johnny

  1. #1
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    Little No-Leg Johnny

    Chapter 1

    Deep in the bowels of the orphanage, in the pitch black depths of the cellar, was an iron cage hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling. Sitting inside the cage was a young boy, Little No-Leg Johnny. Johnny had been placed in the cage recently as punishment for his crime, for which he had shown no remorse. He had even winked suggestively at the judge, blowing a kiss and clutching his groin.

    Johnny was unlike the other children. He had known his parents, up until the age of six he lived with them in his family home – the famous Girdletree Manor. Johnny had grown up to experience great luxury, such as tic-tacs and other mints. As a small boy he had frolicked through his families' lands, enjoying all that the countryside had to offer – bushes, trees, rabbits, mud, holes, water, leaves. He knew the countryside, and the countryside knew him. But it was not to last, as Johnny was destined for a different fate to his brother Jimminy and sister Buttilda.

    Johnny was aged five and three quarters when a terrible tragedy befell him. Frolicking one fine summers day, Johnny entered the forbidden forest. The forest was known for dangerous beasts and wicked poachers who frequented it, Johnny's mother had told him “be careful Johnny, you're not to play in the woods – it's full of rapists”. But Johnny wanted blueberries, and his mother's warning was just a distant memory.

    Skipping merrily through the forbidden forest Johnny had not a care in the world. His red hi-top Nike sneakers trotted and skipped across the ground as if worn by a carefree child, which they were. Stooping to pick up an interesting stick, Johnny heard a nose coming from the bushes. “What could it be?” Thought Johnny, “perhaps more blueberries for my tummy?” Johnny hopped through the undergrowth, unaware of any danger. But there was danger. Johnny skipped into the air, for a fraction of a second both feet were airborne. Coming down to earth, Johnny's feet struck something unfamiliar – something metallic. A rusty hinge clicked, and two metal jaws slammed shut...

    Suspended over the ground in his cage Johnny looked down at the cold stone floor a hundred feet below. A normal child had no choice but to sit in his prison, doomed to whatever terror awaited him. But Johnny was not a 'normal' child; he was affectionately known as “Little No-Leg Johnny” by those who liked him, and as “Turd Stump Spastic Feet” by those who didn't.

    Johnny's family had great wealth, some say more than one thousand Francs. After Johnny's accident it was decided to throw away his old legs, which had become spoiled. Johnny's father, Lord Sprogbocket, owned a spring factory. For the next three months spring production ceased and the factory serfs were put to work on a new project – the construction of ersatz legsters for Johnny. On Christmas day Johnny was presented with his new legs, they were beautiful. Like the legs from a suit of armour, Johnny's legs sparkled as he galloped through the Christmas snow. Behind the metal plating was the most sophisticated mechanism, incorporating springs, wires, cogs, and most importantly of all – Voodoo magic.

    Unknown to Johnny, his father was also a member of a local Voodoo cult. Lord Sprogbocket had made a deal with spirits to restore mobility to his son, in return for his innocent soul. Seeing his favourite son playing with his siblings brought a tear to Lord Sprogbocket's eye, for he knew that Johnny would have to burn in the flames of Voodoo hell for all eternity.

  2. #2
    Registered User Steven Hunley's Avatar
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    Good start! Please carry on!

  3. #3
    Registered User tailor STATELY's Avatar
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    I liked this... "nose" notwithstanding

    Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
    tailor
    tailor

    who am I but a stitch in time
    what if I were to bare my soul
    would you see me origami

    7-8-2015

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    Chapter 2

    One fine summers day Little No-Leg Johnny's uncle, Theodore Columbus Putsch, came to town.

    Putsch was a fat bald man, with a large nose like a beetroot. His ears were like cauliflowers and his eyes were like individual peas. His teeth were like pieces of sweetcorn. His head was like a swede. He was a man made of vegetables, metaphorically, and in his carrot fingers he clasped a briefcase.

    Putsch was a business man, and being an entrepreneur he had identified a gap in the market. Today Putsch was selling recycled condoms. Walking up the garden path, Putsch knocked on the door of a cottage.

    The woman who opened the door had big breasts. “Good morning madam, do you have sex?” enquired Putsch. The Woman spat in Putsch's face, slapped him around the head with a frying pan and kicked him in the balls. “You sick pervert!” she exclaimed, “How dare you besmirch my name!” Putsch extended his arm in order to place it on the woman's shoulder, as one might calm a hysterical woman. Blinded by the woman's spit, Putsch placed his hand on the woman's large breast, resulting in more strikes from the frying pan and a another kick to the balls. “I'm getting my husband!” said the woman.

    Putsch stood at the front of the cottage with bumps on his bald head, which little birds and stars were orbiting. The woman's husband arrived, “You tried to rape my wife!” he said.

    Putsch shook his head, “No sir! I'm a salesman! I'm here to raise awareness about a government recycling scheme.”

    Being a man, the woman's husband understood the logic of Putsch's sales pitch and purchased half a dozen recycled condoms. Unfortunately, this sequence of events was recurrent for Putsch and by the end of the day he was suffering from concussion. Sitting down to watch the TV he flicked onto one of the news channels by mistake.

    “The Zombie Sex Warriors have been controversial since their conception, but today the government has agreed to a referendum on their continued usage.” Putsch found the news boring, the female news anchors were clothed. However this news was of interest to him. The Zombie Sex Warriors had been formed twenty years ago, during the great crisis. Planet earth now had an elite team of undead heroes to call upon during times of need. Always controversial, the ZSW had been credited with both society's salvation and collapse.

    The reporter was interviewing the Zombie Pimp General, Mac Daddy. In his sequinned vest and rainbow afro Mac Daddy was attempting to justify the aurora programme. “Since it's discovery, planet Nugtar has been an integral aspect of the terran economy. Aurora is about more than just harvesting nug butts, it's about protecting the environment.”

    “Bullcrap!” thought Putsch to himself. “The nug butts should remain in their cosmic butt crack, we've got enough problems on Earth. Like trees which eat peoples' heads when they walk underneath. And koalas with rape glands. We don't need any more zombie scum butts fornicating our Women.” But deep down Putsch knew that if it wasn't for the ZSW Earth would have gone the way of Pluto, Mercury, and the other planets. There were bad dudes in space and only a no-good nug butt zombie could match them in skill, stamina, strength, virility, eyesight, flatulence, reflex, hearing and taste. Regular humans were too weak for intergalactic combat, that's why Lord Sprogbocket had been allowed to experiment on planet Nugtar.

    The phone rang. Putsch answered lethargically. “Hello?” he said. A timorous voice replied; “This is Rumpty Pump Orphanage. Is Mr. Putsch available?” the voice said. “Speaking” replied Putsch. The voice continued, “I have bad new Mr. Putsch. It's about your nephew.”

    Putsch paused. He was estranged from his family, had been denied his inheritance, and his ankle bracelet wouldn't let him within a 5 mile radius of Girdletree Manor. “What's happened” he asked. The voice paused, then whispered fearfully; “Little No-Leg Johnny has escaped.”

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