The long, loud screech of spinning tires caused the old grandfather to look up from his granddaughter’s play pool. As he squinted in an effort to see an approaching car, the little girl ceased her splashing and said, "Grandpa, why is that car driving on our lawn?" The sounds were growing louder, but the visuals were still blurry to the old codger. As the automobile roared by, a 12 gauge shotgun barrel spoke from the rear window. The old man flew into a reverse half-gainer when the pellets hit his face. The little girl was horrified to see her grandpa’s jaw floating in her playpool, but she never had enough time to start crying. The car turned around and barreled over her, smashing her head into the width of a paperback book.

Behind the steering wheel, a drug-crazed youth laughed aloud and complemented his colleague’s aim. In the back seat, the other glue-head replied that the driving wasn’t so bad either. They both chuckled and agreed that they made an excellent combat team.

At breakneck speed, the car smashed through the white picket fence of the unwed mother’s home. Fearing for their lives, a contingent of pregnant sluts scrambled for the safety of a brick gazebo in the middle of the lawn. Seeing this, the driver cut off their escape route and his partner worked the pump shotgun furiously. Like a row of exploding watermelons, the unwed mothers went down, one at a time. A nun appeared in a doorway just in time to have her knee-caps blown away by the mischief makers.

They screamed with joy as their speeding car careened sideways, onto the street again. The shotgun roared repeatedly as telephone linemen were blown off of their poles in pieces. Everywhere, workmen and commuters were executed in wild spree fashion.

In search of bigger thrills, the two decided on the schoolyard as their next playground. Crashing over the chain-link fence, the pranksters of death astounded a group of 5th graders by blowing their PE teacher’s head off. The kiddies broke and ran like greedy pigs. Enraged by such cowardice, the driver insisted on running them down rather than wasting perfectly good shotgun shells. Leaving 30ft. of burning rubber in its wake, the car bulleted across the blacktop and rammed the children. Some were crushed repeatedly, whereas others were knocked 50ft. or more.

The driver was getting so much fun out of ramming the kids that he failed to notice an approaching goal post. The speeding car splintered on impact, hurling the shotgunner into the end-zone, and scattering the contents of the driver’s skull to mid-field. Amazed and confused, the shotgunner blinked and ran towards the gym, all the while reloading his automatic 12 gauge.

In the towel room, school janitor, Jose Ed, was about to wake up from all the commotion, when the fleeing teen scattered his pureed intestines all over a large stack of clean, hot towels. The hallway proved to be as threatening as the gym had been for the shotgunning lad, that is to say, he was repeatedly forced to shoot teachers as well as students. It seemed that nothing could match the awesome gore that the shotgun produced. One luckless child, retaliated with a sharp compass, but to no avail. The child was decapitated in a blizzard of fire and lead, a mere 30 ft. from her intended victim.

Using the psychology learned in college, the school nurse nonchalantly strolled about in front of the clinic door. Then, she casually unsnapped her uniform top and let it drop to the hall floor. The shotgun boy hesitated pulling the trigger upon seeing the nurse remove her bra and flexing her large breasts like a pair of battleships. For once in his life, something took his mind off of having fun. He gazed at those nipples like an anemic vacuum cleaner with rabies.

Seizing the opportunity, the vice-principal gorged his eyes on the nurse’s breasts as he blew the shotgunner’s head apart with a .357 magnum.

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by Dr. Popeye X
kurt otto 2012