GARY IN SPRINGTIME

by The Old Sock

Gary gnashed his teeth in fever of anticipation. He lay in wait for the plaid shirt girl. She was the one of who he'd dram all night. But wait, other plaid shirt girl comes. One with headband. He dives into bushes, peeking. Bad plaid goes away. Ah, now, here's the won he wants to talk to, glowing anglo in the dark forest. Gary leaves bushes, scratched a bit but not caring enough. Sam, lovely, stops on path when she saw him.

Gary lean against a tree, stands in way of path. "Sam. Sa-yum. Sa-yum yum yummy. How's it tonight?"

Sam stares at him, unsure, not knowing the power. "Fine."

"You like the forest?"

"Sure."

Gary chuckled. "Me too."

Enough of this, Gary thinks. Time for the big show.

But shouts from away! No! Gary wasn't finished!

"What was that?" Sam push gangle Gary aside.

Gary follows to bark feet away. Bad plaid is stood with Tucker's turd next to poodle of blood gooping on severed hand. Fine, they seen. Sam sees, too, who cares if others see? It most import that Sam see and learn the true Gary wondrous.

"Who could have done this?" asked Tucker.

Gary poked the knuckelhead in the buttocks. "You guys seen nothing!"

Gary leads them to they're usual campfire circle song with stone chair, throne of Gary. Theyr quick to spot his doings. The firepit overflows with big mound of booty parts. It impressive. Gary shines with craftiness.

Bad plaid, turd and Sam see Gary's and he is rife with flooding unashemdly. But then he comes to see their horror when looking at their faces.

"Oh God!" Sam vomits on Tucker's shoes. Tucker slipped on the sicky turning to run.

Bad plaid mades a yell. Gary, given the chance, finally slits her throat.

"How could you, Gary!?" Sam cried.

"THIS IS PROFESSIONALISM, SAM!" Gary screams his love.

His lovely Sam couldn't stay much longer as Gary takes the wood aks to bad plaid's body. He shook his head as she went. She's understanding soon. Soon she's understanding, Gary.