Budwig and The Feetie Footies
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Budwig was a young boy since the day of his birth. The doctors all said it true. That this young boy, born on the eighth day of the twenty-first month in the year 56AD, would be a boy for life. From when he first saw the light creeping in from the darkest depths of his moomaw's vajana, until the day he rest his head on a velveteen pillow and shut his beady pink and yellow eyes for the last time, Budwig Usedman would be boy. Boy-boy-boy. Boy. Boy. He grew up a young boy in the deserts of New York working on his father's leech farm. He spent day and night with big black leeches attached to the whopping pepperonis on his right and left breasts. Every day he would grab a new pair of leeches to suckle at his teat. He would name them anew every dang day. Dutchess and Fangles one day, Blitzen and Mortman another. Cheezus and Corsinthis on Wednesday, Tulio and Scallibag on Fredsday. His mother was a leech. His father an Asian man named Jenny. All of his friends were dead. And his hands were red. It was a bad day for Budwig, and an even worse day for his oven mitts. This is the story.
The story of Budwig and the Feetie Footies.
Budwig was in his 56th summer on this good planet, and the dog days were in full swing. He woke in the morning to find a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. The sweat was jet black resembled ink more than perspiration. He removed his blankets from his person and glanced down at his bare chest. Quarpeen and Zozoz were shriveled as prunes. They were clearly either dead or uninterested in sucking Budwig's milk ducts.
"Phoo you," he said in disgust, "If you aren't thirsty, maybe your brothers will be." Budwig plucked the sorry bloodsuckers from his peps with a sloshy popping noise, and promptly ate them. "Mmm," he muttered to himself, "nothing quite like a fresh pair of man raisins to start the day." He chewed them with his maw gaping and blood trickling down his chin. "Morzgo! Jozzicow! It's your time to shine!" Budwig rolled out of bed and unceremoniously fell in a heap on the ground. He had a bunkbed, and he slept in the top bunk. The corpse of his father was in the bottom bunk as it had been for fourteen years.
"Good morning Dad," said Budwig.
"Slooooosh" his dad replied as his jawbone collapsed onto the floor. Budwig hadn't seen his mother since the day he was born, but his father was always there for him.
"Let's see what we got here," Budwig announced to no one in particular. He crawled under the bed and pulled out an old coffee can. He opened it up and plunged his fist in. When he removed it he had a handful of leeches. He shoved a fistful or two into his mouth and started chewing. He took two more and placed them meticulously onto his nipples. "MMmMmm that's the spot!" Butt nude, Budwig made for his bedroom door, balked, and instead hurled himself out the third story window. He collapsed in the bushes.
"Ouch," he said, "That wasn't very fair at all. I call for a do-over." His right ankle was completely broken and every couple of steps he would fall to his knees. Eventually, he made it back into his bedroom, and dove once more out the window. He broke his other leg.
"Now that's more like it! Whattaya say boys? Why don't we start this day off by hurting someone?" Budwig suggested to his nipple leeches. Before leaving, Budwig crawled into his kitchen. His kitchen hadn't been cleaned since the death of his father, and there was a family of rats living in the oven (which no longer functioned). He named all six of them Stacie. They came out to greet him by chewing on his toes. Budwig had scabs and infected wounds all over his body that he received from the Stacies. Budwig heaved himself over the kitchen counter, grabbed an oven mitt, and used it to cover his genitals, before leaving the house once more.
Budwig's mode of transportation was a tricycle. It was parked out in his driveway, but his broken bones rendered him incapable of driving it properly. In a struggle that lasted fifteen minutes, Budwig situated himself onto his tricycle upside-down, so he could pedal with his hands. He rode down his street where he greeted his neighbors. There was Stunchy CrowWoman burning a basket of her own hair. She waved to him slowly as one of her eyes fell out onto the pavement.
A crow picked it up, announcing, "Holly Wubble, not gonna let this one go to the dogs!" Budwig waved back.
There was Old Man Jermmumiah who had lost his abilty to walk forwards in the war. Wherever he went, he walked backwards while shouting at the top of his lungs. Jermmumiah was walking toward Budwig, so Budwig didn't bother to wave, since he knew the old man wouldn't notice him.
And that was when Budwig saw them. There were two young boys playing in the town dump with a wounded chipmunk with three eyes.
"They look ripe for hurting!" Budwig announced to Morzgo and Jozzicow. Budwig walked over to the boys and said, "I am going to harm you." The boys just looked at him, and one of their jaws unhinged, and he started making a buzzing noise reminiscent of a cicada. Budwig picked up a wrench and threw it at the buzzing boy. The other boy had black orbs for eyes, and showed no reaction, so Budwig picked the wrench back up and threw it at him too. Both boys had large welts on their noggins, but neither seemed to notice. They resumed their torture they were inflicting upon the rodent, ignoring Budwig entirely. Suddenly, there was a cloud of smoke, and when it cleared, the boys were gone, and the chipmunk was thrice the size of a human being. Blood dribbled from its mouth, as it devoured its tormentors.
"Hello Budwig," said the chipmunk, "I've been expecting you..."
"You have?" asked Budwig
"Yes. That's what I just said."
"I know. But I don't even know you. How do you know me?"
"Oh right. I remember now."
"Now, Budwig, would you please remove your shoes?" The giant chipmunk asked.
"I'm not wearing any," Budwig replied.
"Then here... have this," the rodent said as he pulled out a small knife, "skin your feet."
"If you insist...." Budwig did as he was told and flayed his feet up to the ankle. It took him twent-five and a half grueling minutes, but at last he handed the fleshy ribbons to the chipmunk.
"Good work, Budwig. Sit tight, the ritual will now begin." The chipmunk dropped the fleshy ribbons that used to be Budwig's feet. "Now eat your footskin."
"...Okay sounds great!" Budwig knelt down and shoved his face in the bloody skin.
"-DON'T EAT YOUR FOOTSKIN!"
"But you just told me-"
"DON'T. EAT. YOUR. FOOTSKIN."
"Yes Master." The chipmunk turned around and walked away, disappearing into a cloud of fog that was not there several minutes ago.
"Did you see that, guys?" Budwig asked his nipple buddies, "There goes a true hero right there. A chivalrous knight in shining armor." Looking down at his feet, Budwig noticed that they were in no shape to walk ever again. He grabbed a rusty can opener, and cut his feet off with it.
"I'm gonna miss you guys... but it's time for us to part." Budwig buried his severed feet in the ground and crawled back to his tricycle. He rode home leaving a trail of blood behind him as his feet were bleeding profusely. He went to bed that night and did not wake up as he died somewhat peacefully from blood loss.
The next day a coconut tree grew in the place where his feet were buried.
And, at last, the ritual was complete.