The Adventures of Madison Bovine: Part 2

[Creeping Death]

The following story is a work of fiction, with fictitious names and events. Any similar names having gone through similar events are just a matter of coincidence. Fucking copyright restrictions out of the way, so please enjoy. Except for this ****LINK**** This is the same guy.

I jist had to run away from home. I jist had to. I walk around, nd ev’ry where I is, there’s these couple whisperin. I know it’s ‘bout me. I killed my best friend, showed up at the funeral, nd got ‘way wit murder. Ev’rybody’s talkin bout me. I reckoned to be best to move into an ole ‘bandon house. Ya have no idea what it’s like to be a man ‘til ya have a place to call ya own.

After I’s decided to run away, Creepin Death gotta hold o’ me. He needed me to dig up the grave of…Pie Chief? I reckon he’s a porn star. Neway, I went to help him.

“ Here’s a shovel. We need to work quickly and quietly. If we get caught, it will be YOUR ASS!”

“Why my ass?” I asked politely.

“Wha?”

“You sis if we gets caught, its my ass. Why yous want my ass?”

“ I don…”

“Ya ain’t gay, is ya? Not sure what it is, but something ‘bout Creepin Death…I thinks he’s gay. Trust me, I knows my gay people.”

“ Dammit, I ain’t gay!”

“ I didn’t say you were!”

“ You dumb shit, I can hear you. When you talk out loud…people CAN hear you!”

I jist got confused. Din’t realize I was talkin out loud. I reckon my mind’s elsewhere. It has been as of late. But he called me a dimb shit. Stuff like that I don’ take too kindly to. We didn’ talk the rist o’ the time. I wanted to beat the shet outa him. But I didn’ wanna to kill another friend o’ mine. Still, I have nigh’mares ‘bout that day. I didn’ sas this before, but I almost didn’ go to Thomas’s funeral. Thomas was my best friend, the only person I could count on. I don’ talk bout him much, and I reckon I don’ wanna start.

It took up five hours, ya believe it? More than likely t’was because I take breaks ev’ry 10 minutes. Gesus, I’m only 11. Manual labor like that is illegal for a kid my age…well so is diggin up an ole porn star, I reckon.

I don’ remember whats I said, exactly. Somethin’ along the lines of “ Shut…the…fuck up….you bitch.” Yeah, that’s it. Not sure what part, the “shut the fuck up,” or the “bitch” part that made his head red, but he got pissed. Somethin’ tells me I’m off the Christmas card list. Isn like I ever gotton before. I nev’r got a single giff for Christmas. Ma was always too drunk to remember, and Pa…I don’ know what ever happened to him. Ma said he went hikin and got shot by a bear. She said the bear gots the gun from him, but I questioned it. “They don’ have thumbs,” I sis.. O’course Ma was drunk then, too.

Next day, right in front of mys house lays a dead body. After lookin it over, I find it’s the Pie Chief. ‘Round his head was a note. It reads:

Dear Fuckhead,

Thought you could use this. I have no use for it anymore. One last thing. HIS NAME IS NOT PIE CHIEF! HE IS NOT A PORN STAR! HE IS A WELL RESPECTED WRESTLER BY THE NAME OF HIGH CHIEF PETER MAIVIA, THE GRANDFATHER OF THE ROCK.

I made you, and this is how you treat me? Fuck you.

Creeping.

I wisn’t sure what to do wit the body, so I broughts him inside. Let me tell ya, that wisn't easy pullin a dead person, but somehow I pulled it off. I sat him up against the wall. I sat n lookin at him for a while, examinin his features. How often do you reckon you get to look at a dead person? I started wonderin if Thomas looked like this now. Like a 45 year old who died 27 years ago. There was hardly any skin on him, and he had no eye balls. I reckoned he looked perty cool.

I soon fond out that wit no ma around to give me my juice and brekfest, I had to git my own food. Two days since I ran away from home, and I already miss it. I wants to go home, but I can’t. It’s the best thin not to go back. I know it’s best, but I miss home. If I’m gonna survive on my own, I need to find some food. Then I looked over at High Chief. I looked at him and he…looked… back at me. I was thinkin if I should do it. Slowly, I walked over to him. Then I propped him up straighter. He looked all saggy. Now I reckon I better find some food.

Stealin food seemed like the only thing tado fanow. Just as I was out the door ‘nd on my way to my local grocery store, I hearda quiet creakin sound . I shrugged it off as nothin. It’s an old house, and old houses do that.

I went to town to the food market and found an old couple carryin their groceries to their car. I figured why not, as I need more practice if I want to fight for a livin.

“What did you say about me?” I thought I would stick wit the basics.

“Hey! Get away from me you stupid kid.” This man was goin to be hard to take down. I did and took his groceries. If I play my cards right, I should have enough food to last for 2 weeks. I looked inside to see what I looted.

“ Aww damn. Bran Flakes. This is gonna be the worst 2 weeks ever!”

I can’t steal Bran Flakes forever, so I had to figure somethin out. I was goin to wait until I was 18 to start wrestlin, but I can’t survive 7 years on Bran Flakes. I know of a place two towns over that puts on wrestling. I reckon I’d go over there next mornin.

Durrin the middle of the night, I was woken up by some strange sounds. I wisn't sure what to make of the noise. Whatever it was, it scared me; my heart was poundin like I was runnin a race. The more I listened, the more I thought it sounded…ghostly.

“Please don’t tell me my house is haunted. Please please please!” I went under my raggy sheets, thinkin they wouldn’t be able to see me. The noises started faintin off into the distance. Then they left completely, thank God.

I miss home.

I wanted to fall back asleep, but I couldn’t. For a while at least. When I did fall asleep, the sun came up and I couldn’t sleep anymore. Well, I got up and made myself look at least haf way presentable. I wanted to make a good impression. I started my hike by takin the back roads, as I didn’t want to be seen in my town. When I got to the next town, I started askin people where to go. After askin several people and just plain walkin randomly, I found the place and went inside. I saw a large man. When I say large, I mean gigantic. He seemed to be 8 foot tall. Of course I’ma only 4 foot myself.

“ I want to start fightin. When can I start? I’m really good.”

“Heh, you want to fight kid? Come back in about 10 years.”

“I want to start now!”

“Look kid, how old are you? Eight? I’m not even the guy to talk to. I’m just a fighter myself. If you seriously want to talk about what you should be doin, go into that office right over there.” He pointed a door to the left that had Thomas Redding in big bold white letters. Underneath it had Head Booker on it.

“Thank you very much.” He didn’t reply, just walked away wit a smirk on his face. I wanted to wipe that smirk off, but I figured I would get the chance once I get the job. Well, I went over to the door and went inside without knocking.

“Howdy. I’m Madison Bovine. Are you Thomas Reddin?”

“What you want kid? Some autographs and some pictures or somethin?”

“Neeoo…I wan’ to become a fighter.”

“What are you, 8?” Why does everybody think I’m 8?

“Do I look 8?”

“Naa. You look 27”

“So can I have the job?”

“I was bein sarcastic!”

How was I supposed to know? Obviously, he rejected me, so I left to walk back to home. I now realize that I’m too young to be a fighter. I never knew you had tobe over 18. I had to think of somethin that will make me look older. I saw a Dollar Store in town here, so I thought I would pay me a visit and see what they had. Once I walked in, right on the right hand side, I found what would do the trick. So I “bought” them by rippin open the fake money register toy and givin her the dollar, plus some change I found on the streets. She was so darn stupid. I wonder if it’s in the blonde hair gene?

I walked back to see Thomas Reddin. Before I got into the buildin, I put on the stuff I bought. Then I headed inside and knocked on Thomas’s door. He called me in and I opened the door.

“You wanna be a wrestler, huh?” He didn’t bother lookin up. He was too engaged wit his paperwork.

“Yes sir!” I replied, enthused.

“Who were you trained by?” He still didn’t look at me.

I thought for a moment. I knew I couldn’t take too long decidin, as it would look too fake. “…High Chief Peter Maivia.” He dropped his pencil as if he were in shock. Slowly, he raised his head with his jaw wide open. Ha!

“When can you start?”

“Right ‘way, my good man!”

“Please, tell me about yourself, how long you trained with High Chief, what was he like, and did anybody tell you that you look like Groucho Marx?”

“I get that a lot.” I then proceeded to tell him my life’s story. It was probably somebody else life story, because I just made it up on the spot. Except for the part where I told him I accidentally killed a man named Thomas. When I told him that, he leaned back in his chair, and he looked kind of shocked. I didn’ wanna tell him t’was my friend, as I’m sure he woulda figured out who I was.

“ I just came up with the greatest idea…I go missin. People wonder who killed Thomas, the boss. Meanwhile, I have you booked as the next big thing. You debut, and we give you a winnin streak while people figure out who killed me. Then we will reveal that you killed me. How’s that sound?”

“I’m supposed to kill you? Like…now?” I got up and started walkin over too him.

“Haha! I have a man who has a since of humor. Save it for next week. You can start next week, right?”

“Yes I can.”

“Here’s to a great workin relationship.” We had a hand shake and I was on my way out. I was wonderin though, who the hell is Groucho Marx?

I started on my back home. I hate callin it that. It ain’t home. It’s justa house. An ole, pro’lly haunted house. Home is a lovin mother and a lovin father raising 2.5 lil’ rapscallions (occordin to the govament, one kid hastobe cut in half!) I had me a ma, but I neva had a father that I could call daddy. Back home, I had a mama, but I didn’ care fer her much, but she loved me. I ruined my life. No I didn’. I did what musta been done. I’ma gonna have a new life, ‘nd a better life.

I wis walkin down the street where my house is, and I noticed that the house was glowing. I was flabbergasted. It was glowin! I couldn’ believe it! I was kinda smiling at it. Then it started to shake, and my smile got lost. My jaw fell open when the house started to rise! It rose ‘bout 5 foot offa ground. The next thing that happened, I’m not sure how to explain it. I reckoned the house turned inside out and vanished into nowheres. I fell to my knees at this. A man is not measured by his heart, but by his house, and mine’s gone. I walked ov’r to where my house used to be. I saw something, but wisn’t sure what to make of it. I walked closer. It was the body of High Chief. He was the only thing left where the house used to be.

“God dammit, I hope nobody notices.”

[XanMan]

You already know how I feel about this, so I'm just going to say: Fine installment.

[JoeyShinobi]

I've been waiting for this, and it didn't disappoint. Great work, CD.

[Benjamin Button]

I see we're revisiting the digging up of Chief Maivia.

I thought my complaint would be how disjointed the first half and second half were, but then you tied everything together so nicely with him claiming that Maivia trained him.

The end left me wanting to read the next one. The narrator’s voice is funny as hell. Although I'm coming into this saga a little late, it is cool to see you doing something else that is just as good as your appreciation columns.

Great job. 9 out of 10.

[Box Car Rocco]

I believe you were worried about ruining the legacy of MB, let me tell you that you didn't because this was yet another awesome read. Just entertaining all the way through.

[Freeman]

Damn it Death! I missed the first part of this series, and I'm pissed off about that, because this was so God darn good! The narrative is funny as hell, I can almost picture what his voice would sound like in my head. Entertaining throughout, keep these bad boys coming, I'm looking forward to seeing where you're going with this.

[Creeping Death]

Sir Xan: Thank you for reading. Are you hitting on me?

Mr. Shinobi: Glad I didn't disappoint. Thanks a lot.

Benji Button: Thanks a lot, man. Glad you enjoyed it.

B!C!R!: That was one of my bigger fears. The other is my fear of clowns. I dispise clowns. John Wayne Gacy hasn't really helped matters.

Free-Falling-Man: I posted a link to the first installment. Not sure if you saw that or not. Happy you enjoyed it.

Thanks everybody for the feedback, and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

[Andy]

I didn't catch the first one at the time, but I checked it out before reading this. I'd say job well done because you managed to keep my interest for the duration of this.

There were a few minor, little, tiny, wee things that I believe to be mistakes, but I'm not complaining.

I'm just wondering what this was all about, though:

"Dear Fuckhead,
Thought you could use this. I have no use for it anymore. One last thing. HIS NAME IS NOT PIE CHIEF! HE IS NOT A PORN STAR! HE IS A WELL RESPECTED WRESTLER BY THE NAME OF HIGH CHIEF PETER MAIVIA, THE GRANDFATHER OF THE ROCK.

I made you, and this is how you treat me? Fuck you.
Creeping."


I know it comes up differently here, but in the column I mean. You know the way it seems scattered?

Anyaway, as the others have said, very good.

[Creeping Death]

Maybe because I am extremely tired, and getting ready to hit the hay in a little bit, but I have no idea what you're getting at. The note was written by me to Madison, after I got done with High Chief, as I wrote about in the Rikishi column. If that wasn't what you were getting at, please elaborate. Glad you enjoyed it, however.

[Andy]

Damn it wont look right!

I mean the way that one line was further in the centre, and one was furher to the left.

[Creeping Death]

Ah! Gotcha. I wanted to make it look like a letter. That's all. Make it letter form. All I did was indent.

[Super Chrisss]

Any column that is allowed to have a million spelling erros must be fun to write.

This was a cool follow-up to Part 1, if not better. The flow was awesome, and the humor was right on cue. Great job man.

[Creeping Death]

Thanks a lot Super Chrisss. The hard part is making sure most words are spelled wrong! Thanks for the feedback.