shorty & garfield fanfiction
the misadventures of our two favorite scampish fellas!
Friday, June 22, 2012
Is Garfield dead?
"Jim,Jim!' I hear SHorty's plaintive cry as I scamper down my street, ducking between cars and hiding in alleyways , in my never ending quest to elude our persevering bum, Shorty.
"Jim, I know you always tell me you got all that musical shit up there in yo studio but I tell you, I GOT to lay down some rhymes and some beats, know what I'm sayin'?" "Me and my homie here, Garfield, we got some dope ass shit that's gonna make us rich!"
"Shorty, no way. Uhh,nice to meet you ,Mr. Garfield,I, uh, have heard a lot about you. SHorty speaks very highly of you". Garfield is silent, he's lying in a wagon that SHorty has fashioned out of an old shopping cart. SUnglasses perched rakishly on his cat head. I think to myself,"he may actually be unconscious, I've got to get these people out of here".
"Jim,Jim,Garfield, see, he's sick or somethin'. I don't what the hell, last week he takin' craps all over my bed instead of the litter box, I mean, what the fuck is that? He jus mad cause I was gonna pop a cap in his ass. You know I'm shittin with you, G?"
Garfield says nothing.
"ok, Shorty, and Mr. Garfield,You have one hour to lay down some beats and rhymes,we cool?"
"Jim, Jim, oh thank you,you ain't gonna regret this, this shit is gonna POP! Now jus help me get this cart up them stairs, Garfield is all fucked up, I think he was smokin blunts already this morning and he always all backed up from that fucked up lasagna he eat up all the time. Grab one end of this cart."
SO there we are, dragging the supine Garfield up the stairs into the studio to lay down some beats and rhymes.
"Look, SHorty, if you guys are going to lay shit down, I think Garfield can't be laying in an old shopping cart, unconscious. See my point?
"Jim,Jim, he gonna come to. C'mon G,quit the fuckin around, we got into Jim's crib with all the musical shit, we gotta lay it down! Now!
"Uh, Shorty, I think he's turning blue, I mean as much as cats can turn blue but he is fucked up. You'd better do cpr or something"
"Sheee-it, I ain't kissn' no damn cat!" I take Garfield out of the cart, I can feel a heartbeat but it's pretty weak.
"Shorty, call 911, we're losin' him!"
"Awwww, fuck, Jim, we can't be losin' G! C,mon G, snap out of it!" As Shorty starts to beat and slap Garfield's face. Nothing.
"Look, you dip shits get the fuck out of here, I don't want the cops up here snoopin around with a fucking dead cat laying in the studio. Get the fuck out!"
So SHorty piles the near lifeless body of our other hero,Garfield, into his makeshift wagon and carries him down the stairs and out onto the street. "Help! Help! I gotta dyin' cat on my hands! SOmebody, PLEEEEEZZE help me save fuckin G!"
As the street is jammed with people that SHorty has pissed off over the years with his incessant begging, no one comes to his aid!
"Hey, I got motherfuckin' Garfield here and he's blue in the face! SOmeone, PLEEEEEZE do some cpr shit on his azz befo he die!"
Well, the people seeing that it is thee Garfield in danger, they stampede down the street plowing over Shorty, the bum, much in the same way he was trampled last week by the pcp addicts he had sold drugs to.
So there lay Shorty, in the street, trampled and bloodied. Garfield on the gurney, happily hooked to an IV , receiving oxygen and being petted and cooed over by his adoring public. As it turns out, Garfield had smoked one too many catnip blunts earlier in the day. As they put Garfield into the ambulance, Shorty says,"hey, what about me? i'm all fucked up over cuzza you fuckers tramplin me to save Garfield!" The crowd turns and yells, "Fuck you, SHorty!", throws old Subway wrappers and assorted cans and chicken bones and returns to their shwarmas and pricey shots of Rumchata, leaving our persevering bum to lie unconscious in the street, yet again. The end.
"Jim, I know you always tell me you got all that musical shit up there in yo studio but I tell you, I GOT to lay down some rhymes and some beats, know what I'm sayin'?" "Me and my homie here, Garfield, we got some dope ass shit that's gonna make us rich!"
"Shorty, no way. Uhh,nice to meet you ,Mr. Garfield,I, uh, have heard a lot about you. SHorty speaks very highly of you". Garfield is silent, he's lying in a wagon that SHorty has fashioned out of an old shopping cart. SUnglasses perched rakishly on his cat head. I think to myself,"he may actually be unconscious, I've got to get these people out of here".
"Jim,Jim,Garfield, see, he's sick or somethin'. I don't what the hell, last week he takin' craps all over my bed instead of the litter box, I mean, what the fuck is that? He jus mad cause I was gonna pop a cap in his ass. You know I'm shittin with you, G?"
Garfield says nothing.
"ok, Shorty, and Mr. Garfield,You have one hour to lay down some beats and rhymes,we cool?"
"Jim, Jim, oh thank you,you ain't gonna regret this, this shit is gonna POP! Now jus help me get this cart up them stairs, Garfield is all fucked up, I think he was smokin blunts already this morning and he always all backed up from that fucked up lasagna he eat up all the time. Grab one end of this cart."
SO there we are, dragging the supine Garfield up the stairs into the studio to lay down some beats and rhymes.
"Look, SHorty, if you guys are going to lay shit down, I think Garfield can't be laying in an old shopping cart, unconscious. See my point?
"Jim,Jim, he gonna come to. C'mon G,quit the fuckin around, we got into Jim's crib with all the musical shit, we gotta lay it down! Now!
"Uh, Shorty, I think he's turning blue, I mean as much as cats can turn blue but he is fucked up. You'd better do cpr or something"
"Sheee-it, I ain't kissn' no damn cat!" I take Garfield out of the cart, I can feel a heartbeat but it's pretty weak.
"Shorty, call 911, we're losin' him!"
"Awwww, fuck, Jim, we can't be losin' G! C,mon G, snap out of it!" As Shorty starts to beat and slap Garfield's face. Nothing.
"Look, you dip shits get the fuck out of here, I don't want the cops up here snoopin around with a fucking dead cat laying in the studio. Get the fuck out!"
So SHorty piles the near lifeless body of our other hero,Garfield, into his makeshift wagon and carries him down the stairs and out onto the street. "Help! Help! I gotta dyin' cat on my hands! SOmebody, PLEEEEEZZE help me save fuckin G!"
As the street is jammed with people that SHorty has pissed off over the years with his incessant begging, no one comes to his aid!
"Hey, I got motherfuckin' Garfield here and he's blue in the face! SOmeone, PLEEEEEZE do some cpr shit on his azz befo he die!"
Well, the people seeing that it is thee Garfield in danger, they stampede down the street plowing over Shorty, the bum, much in the same way he was trampled last week by the pcp addicts he had sold drugs to.
So there lay Shorty, in the street, trampled and bloodied. Garfield on the gurney, happily hooked to an IV , receiving oxygen and being petted and cooed over by his adoring public. As it turns out, Garfield had smoked one too many catnip blunts earlier in the day. As they put Garfield into the ambulance, Shorty says,"hey, what about me? i'm all fucked up over cuzza you fuckers tramplin me to save Garfield!" The crowd turns and yells, "Fuck you, SHorty!", throws old Subway wrappers and assorted cans and chicken bones and returns to their shwarmas and pricey shots of Rumchata, leaving our persevering bum to lie unconscious in the street, yet again. The end.
Friday, June 15, 2012
shorty is a dumbass
So, our persevering bum, Shorty, kept telling garfield,"hey,man you gotta chill, i gotta work this Englebert Humperdinck concert this weekend, you know parkin cars an shit and then i'll get you the goddamn kitty litter. chill the fuck out before i put a cap in yo ass". This statement left garfield cowering in the corner, all backed up from too much lasagna and nowhere to go! He being a cat with some manners who wouldn't think of pooping and peeing all over the place, unlike a couple of other cats I had met in MY travels. But that's another story.
So, the Englebert Humperdinck concert comes up, Shorty is all decked out in full parking gear; orange vest he stole from a real parking attendant and a couple of sticks he had painted orange to "guide" in the cars. Just like a jet plane. To their pubic street side parking spaces. Which he has no jurisdiction over whatsoever being a lowly a bum. Anyway, on his walk from the "crib", he spies a bottle of pills on the street, obviously a prescription drug deal gone awry. Being resourceful as well as persevering, he takes the pills and figures after he parks the car, he can offer the Humperdinck fans some "Ex" so they can dig on the grooves and really get down. He can charge $5 a pill and get Garfield the best kitty litter Evie's(our local gourmet market) has to offer! Little does Shorty know that the pills in the bottle are really PCP, or "dust", an animal tranquilizer popular about 30 years ago! It was reported to make people berserk and give them superhuman strength! The Humperdinck fans are really gobbling up what they think is "Ex" , Shorty is beside himself with glee, having made a fortune in one night!
Or so he thinks. Little does he know that midway through the concert, the fans who are hopped up on what they think is "ex" , they start to lose their minds! They start tearing apart the theater, throwing security around like rag dolls, tearing up seats, smashing popcorn machines, etc. Shorty, obvious to this, is standing outside the theater , smoking a blunt he stole from one of the girls who work at the shwarma joint nearby. Well, he hears what sound like wild animals running down the street , stopping traffic, cars colliding, being overturned by the Humperdinck fans who accidentally got "dusted". Shorty tries to run but just having smoked a blunt filled with the "chronic", he merely stumbles and falls flat on his face, right in the middle of woodward avenue! The mob, high on PCP, which Shorty sold them, tramples him as they run wild, wreaking havoc into the night. There Shorty lay, no pants, bruised and bleeding, money all gone(the local thieves had cleaned him out when he lay unconscious in the street). He wakes up to crawl back to the "crib". As he crawls though the door, Garfield asks, "where the hell is my kitty litter you promised to buy? How am I supposed to take a crap?" "I don't know, dawg, it was crazy, they was runnin' wild like they was on some kind of shit I ain't never seen before. I got trampled and robbed , yo, ain't nothin I could do!", Shorty exclaimed, tears streaming down his bloodied and humiliated face. "Shorty, you're a dumbass", exclaimed garfield, as he walked to Shorty's bed and took a dump right in the middle of it. The end.
So, the Englebert Humperdinck concert comes up, Shorty is all decked out in full parking gear; orange vest he stole from a real parking attendant and a couple of sticks he had painted orange to "guide" in the cars. Just like a jet plane. To their pubic street side parking spaces. Which he has no jurisdiction over whatsoever being a lowly a bum. Anyway, on his walk from the "crib", he spies a bottle of pills on the street, obviously a prescription drug deal gone awry. Being resourceful as well as persevering, he takes the pills and figures after he parks the car, he can offer the Humperdinck fans some "Ex" so they can dig on the grooves and really get down. He can charge $5 a pill and get Garfield the best kitty litter Evie's(our local gourmet market) has to offer! Little does Shorty know that the pills in the bottle are really PCP, or "dust", an animal tranquilizer popular about 30 years ago! It was reported to make people berserk and give them superhuman strength! The Humperdinck fans are really gobbling up what they think is "Ex" , Shorty is beside himself with glee, having made a fortune in one night!
Or so he thinks. Little does he know that midway through the concert, the fans who are hopped up on what they think is "ex" , they start to lose their minds! They start tearing apart the theater, throwing security around like rag dolls, tearing up seats, smashing popcorn machines, etc. Shorty, obvious to this, is standing outside the theater , smoking a blunt he stole from one of the girls who work at the shwarma joint nearby. Well, he hears what sound like wild animals running down the street , stopping traffic, cars colliding, being overturned by the Humperdinck fans who accidentally got "dusted". Shorty tries to run but just having smoked a blunt filled with the "chronic", he merely stumbles and falls flat on his face, right in the middle of woodward avenue! The mob, high on PCP, which Shorty sold them, tramples him as they run wild, wreaking havoc into the night. There Shorty lay, no pants, bruised and bleeding, money all gone(the local thieves had cleaned him out when he lay unconscious in the street). He wakes up to crawl back to the "crib". As he crawls though the door, Garfield asks, "where the hell is my kitty litter you promised to buy? How am I supposed to take a crap?" "I don't know, dawg, it was crazy, they was runnin' wild like they was on some kind of shit I ain't never seen before. I got trampled and robbed , yo, ain't nothin I could do!", Shorty exclaimed, tears streaming down his bloodied and humiliated face. "Shorty, you're a dumbass", exclaimed garfield, as he walked to Shorty's bed and took a dump right in the middle of it. The end.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
So,Shorty, being the persevering and resourceful bum that he is,decided
to use Garfield's love of lasagna to come up with a black market money
making scheme. They could make pot lasagna! So,Shorty robbed his local
marijuana dealer and scored heaps and heaps of sweet green buds. He and
Garfield went back to the "crib",sprayed insecticide all over to get
rid of the bedbugs and got down to work. Earlier that day, after robbing
the pot dealer,shorty had also robbed the local gourmet
market,"Evie's", which was close to the crib. So they were all set.
Garfield laid out the noodles while Shorty made the sauce, mixing in the
pot with the oregano! They made two pans! The only thing they didn't
know was how strong it was going to be. After taking it out of the oven,
they almost went crazy, licking their chops in anticipation! You know
how Garfield is about his lasagna. And Shorty about weed and soft foods.
They each had a square of piping hot "pot" lasagna. How much to eat?
How long would it take to kick in? They couldn't stand it and each
gobbled down their whole piece of lasagna. After an hour, Shorty said to
Garfield,"whoa, dog, i ain't feelin' so good. I'm all dizzy and shit".
Garfield agreed but added that it felt like he was od ing on catnip, as
he had at one point in the mid 80s. After while, they fell into a deep
sleep and each were transported away on little lasagna clouds.
Unfortunately, they didn't put away the lasagna before floating off to
dreamland and when they woke up 15 hours later, the local alley rats had
come in through the hole below the sink and made off with all of their 2
pans of lasagna! Now the rats didn't know it was pot lasagna and ate
up all of it! The 'hood had some very sleepy and confused rats for a
couple of days and Shorty and Garfield never got to sell their product
and Shorty is still a bum to this day. The End.
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