Eat All Your Veggies – Or Else


Here’s a tale I wrote, to encourage kids to listen to their parents and eat their dinner.

Eat All Your Veggies – Or Else

One day, in the blinding snow, I saw a girl, who dressed like a ho. She smelled like a rose and looked quite the dish, but she claimed to be a genie and offered me a wish. I wished for a burger, I wished for some fries, but all I got were a stinking pack of lies. The burger was salmon and the fries were carrot sticks. I’d been had by a health genie’s tricks.

Her face became a grandma’s and her clothes grew ten sizes too big, while her hair curled up into a bluish-white wig. She smiled and stepped forward, holding a tray, while I stepped far… far far away. The tray was filled with broccoli both wilted and like new, all the bits of broccoli I ever refused to chew.

“Eat your veggies and you can go out and play,” I heard the woman say. “Growing boys need good food, to help with their day.”

I shook my head and closed my mouth, but it was all for naught. I had forgotten just how hard old ladies fought. She forced me to the ground and made me eat my fill, of veggies and salmon and a vitamin pill.

After I could eat no more, she made me eat again, until I begged for mercy for this health nightmare to end.

In the blink of an eye, she and her food were gone, leaving me a wreck, just another clean plate pawn. So, if you ever balk at your parent’s food commands, remember this children, health genies roam the land.

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The Undead Duckling – A Tale For The Depraved Kid at Heart


Here’s another tale for the depraved kid at heart.

The Undead Duckling

Andy wasn’t like other ducklings. All his brothers and sisters had fuzzy brown feathers and cute little peeping voices. The only sound Andy could make was a growling moan and his feathers drooped over bits of dried muscle and flesh, that seemed to rot away with each passing day.

He just didn’t fit in. While the other ducklings ate worms and bits of grass, Andy preferred the dead bits of ducklings remains left over from Mr. Eagle’s meals. He especially liked any bits of brain he could get his beak on.

In fact the only word he managed to learn to say was brains.When asked what he wanted to do, he moaned, “Brains.” When asked how he was feeling, he moaned, “Brains.” When asked what he wanted to eat, he moaned, “Brains.”

The other ducklings treated Andy with fear and contempt, even when he tried to play water polo with him. “Go away freak,” they’d say, shoving him under the water as they sped away. It wasn’t his fault that pieces of his body fell off and got stuck all over their ball.

Even his parents feared Andy, even though they tried their best to include him in their daily treks around the pond and nuzzle him at night. But Andy’s rotting body, his desire for the flesh of his deceased siblings and the fact that he responded to everything with “Brains” caused them to tremble any time they were near him.

One day, Andy decided to run away from home. He moved to the other side of the pond and hid among the reeds, hunting the ducklings that lived there. Andy figured that since they weren’t part of his family, there really wasn’t anything wrong with it. Besides, those highfaluting north ponders had it coming.

This went on for a while and Andy grew strong enough to move to hunting adult ducks. The more he ate, the less his body seemed to rot and the sharper his mind became, even though he could still only speak one word.

But Andy was tired of hiding. He didn’t want to spend his whole life cowering in the weeds like some rat, scurrying out only to feed. So, he stepped out of the reeds and strode purposefully towards the water’s edge, ignoring the screams of the ducks around him.

He peered down into the water and saw a large adult duck before him, with blood dappled feathers and exposed muscles dried like wads of paper. Andy smiled to himself. It didn’t matter that he was different than the other ducks or what they thought of him. He was an elite member of the undead and could kill them all.

“Brains,” he said softly and headed out into the pond to surprise his family.

 

 

Tales for the Depraved Kid at Heart Videos


I’ve got the two children stories my mother wrote and I illustrated on Youtube now, narrated by the woman who controls my life. They’re wonderful and you should listen to them with little tykes in tow, as long as the tykes don’t mind decapitated bunnies and megalomaniac kittens destroying France.