User:Dijon Sanders/E3N2

100 Miles to Branson: The Corn Saga

As broadcasted on 28.01 PART 1 The Funky Trucker and his new apprentice, Corn, hit the road with an expedited load bound for Branson, MO. Early into the trip, they stop to refuel. Dozens of sausage biscuits and roller hotdogs are purchased. A young, naive Corn is ready to turn a new leaf, leaving behind the life of hate he was indoctrinated into. He’s on the run from the rest of the clan after they discovered his true sexuality and foot fetish. All that remains to remind him of the pain is the swastika tattoo his buddy started but never finished on his right bicep. His thoughts are interrupted as the Funky Trucker suddenly groans in pain. “Get the bucket!” he yelled. “Here comes the sausage biscuit!” A brown torrent erupts from his pant legs. Corn bails out the fetid liquid like a sailor in a monsoon, desperately trying to contain the flood until they finally arrive at a hotel. Checking in, they discover the room has only one bed. Exhausted from the shitstorm, the Funky Trucker passes out, leaving Corn on the floor. That’s when Corn spots the trucker’s exposed toes at the end of the bed. Will he subdue his urge to suck on them? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 2 Corn fights the urge to suck on the Funky Trucker’s toes with all his might. He creeps toward the foot of the bed, spittle falling from his lips, sitting in the darkness with his mouth foaming like a rabid dog. The road to recovery is riddled with potholes, but this time, he resists. He accepts that the desire to suck toes will always plague his thoughts. Just as he finally falls asleep, his mentor lets out an earth-shattering fart. It’s time to hit the road. The Funky Trucker grabs the impoverished skinhead and tosses him into the truck like a rag doll. Gazing upon Corn’s half-finished swastika tattoo, the trucker bursts into laughter. “I guess we’re both running from our past.” With a chuckle, he continues, “I’d like to introduce you to one of my friends in Branson. He’s in the leather business… and also a reformed Nazi. He can help you kick that toe-sucking habit.” Corn blushes. He had never told the trucker… How did he know? “I saw you frothing at the mouth, boy. Just know that I don’t swing that way,” the trucker says. “With a little training, the Leather Master will remove your desire to suck on other men’s toes.” The duo pull off the interstate to pick up supplies—dozens of roller hotdogs—before hitting the road again. “100 miles to Branson,” the sign reads. It’s almost time to meet the Leather Master. All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 3 The duo took a wrong turn on their way to Branson, MO. After what seemed like hours lost on dirt roads, the Funky Trucker stomped on the brakes. A poorly fashioned “Fishin’ Spot” sign caught his attention. “Son, we’re going fishing!” he screamed with excitement. Corn didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Overcome with emotion, he started to cry. He never had a father figure growing up. The chip on his shoulder finally began to crumble, his defenses demolished as he ran into the trucker’s arms. “No need to cry, son. Abandon your foolish path. Hate is not the answer,” the Funky Trucker said, holding Corn tight. “I’m so confused… All I’ve ever known is hatred and pain,” Corn sobbed through a flurry of tears. “We can fix you… Do not lose hope. Tomorrow, we can make your adoption legal. I will be your new father. I will teach you how to love,” the Funky Trucker said as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Then, with a grin, he exclaimed, “Now, let me teach you how to fish!” All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 4 Beaming with joy, Corn and the Funky Trucker left the state building with paperwork in hand. The Funky Trucker had legally adopted Corn as his own. The duo spent the next few days strolling around Branson, enjoying some downtime before their next long haul. A telephone pole covered in old flyers caught Corn’s eye. He spotted an “Obama ‘08” poster. His face turned red with anger. “Why do you let that man live in your head rent-free?” the Funky Trucker asked. “He hasn’t been in office for years! Please, let it go. No one cares about Obama anymore. I hate to see you like this.” Corn took a few deep breaths and regained his composure. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “I think a penance tour around the country is in order. C’mon, it’ll be fun!” The trucker chuckled. “I don’t think you’re ready to meet the Leather Master just yet.” Corn relished the idea of traveling the country. His stunted worldview needed expanding. “That sounds great! I call sh1tgun— I mean, shotgun!” The father-son duo erupted into uncontrollable laughter. The trucker suddenly stopped Corn in his tracks. They stood in front of the local VA hospital. “Alright, here’s the first stop of the penance tour. I know how patriotic you are, so this one should be fun,” the trucker said. “I always thought it was odd that you’re extremely patriotic… but also a Nazi. Oh well, water under the bridge.” With that, the father-son duo entered the VA hospital. All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 5 The ragtag duo entered the VA hospital. “My son here is on a penance tour. Is there anything we can do to help these veterans?” asked the Funky Trucker. “You’ve arrived just in time to help sponge bathe some of the older vets,” said a helpful nurse, leading them down the hall. She stopped at a room containing an ancient man. “Meet Sgt. Darnell Jefferson. He was a famous Buffalo Soldier during WWII. He’s 106 years old, so please be gentle… and don’t make any sudden movements,” the nurse cautioned. Corn cringed at the thought of bathing a black man. The Funky Trucker nudged him. “Buck up, son. The road to redemption has its ups and downs.” Sgt. Jefferson hadn’t been fully conscious in years. With sponge and bucket in hand, Corn began scrubbing the helpless man. “You’re doing a great job!” the trucker cheered. The physical activity caused Corn’s sleeve to ride up, exposing his unfinished swastika tattoo. “I’m really starting to enjoy this penance tour,” Corn said in a gentle tone. At that moment, Sgt. Jefferson’s eyes shot open. He began shaking uncontrollably as he saw Corn’s ink. Then, with all his might, the ancient black man slapped Corn across the face. Years of poverty had left Corn slight in stature— the impact knocked him unconscious. He soiled himself on the spot. A group of nurses and doctors rushed in. “Pick up your disgusting Nazi friend and leave before I call the cops!” the nurse screamed. All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 6 The Funky Trucker hoisted the malnourished Nazi over his shoulder and stormed out of the hospital. “Well, that didn’t go well,” he muttered, tossing Corn into the truck’s cab. Corn groggily awoke to find the trucker scrubbing his soiled lower body. “Well, look who’s finally awake!” the trucker said with a grin. “Just fulfilling my duty as your new father.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “That ancient 90-pound Black man really roughed you up! I think a trip to the gym is in order. As your father, I’ll always protect you, but you’ve got to learn how to fight!” Corn’s eyes lit up. He had been beaten up his entire life. “Let’s take a little detour to a boxing gym. Pay attention, son— I was a Golden Gloves champ, and I’m going to teach you a few of my favorite combos!” Excited, the duo practically sprinted to the gym. Lacking the proper gear, they scavenged the lost and found. The morbidly obese trucker squeezed into a wrestling singlet, while Corn found a pair of women’s bike shorts. The entire gym stopped and stared. Ignoring the gawking crowd, they found a heavy bag. “Watch and learn, son,” the trucker said confidently. With all his might, he threw a punch— A loud *snap* shattered the silence. The trucker let out a pained curse, trying to play it off. “Alright, your turn,” he groaned, cradling his now-shattered wrist. Corn hesitantly stepped up, drawing back to strike. Before he could throw a punch, a group of large Black professional boxers noticed his unfinished swastika tattoo. They grabbed the scrawny man and dragged him into the locker room. “You thirsty, Nazi boy?” they jeered as they repeatedly dunked his head in the toilet. All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 7 “Get away from my son!” the trucker bellowed. Reluctantly, the boxers dropped Corn onto the cold tile floor. Coughing up toilet water, he began to sob uncontrollably. “I’m trying to change… Why, God, why?!” he wailed. The trucker sighed. “I think we need a drink. My wrist is broken, but I don’t have health insurance… so booze it is!” The duo slowly shuffled to the nearest watering hole. “Barkeep! Whiskey, stat! We need to kill some pain!” the trucker announced as they sat down. Corn swirled his drink bitterly. “If no one will give me a chance to change, maybe I’ll quit trying.” The trucker shook his head. “The problem is that tattoo. We need to get it covered.” He downed his shot and grinned. “Let’s get smashed and hit the nearest tat parlor. Heck, I might get some fresh ink too!” A few hours and a bottle of cheap swill later, the duo stumbled to a tattoo shop— only to find it closed. A helpful hobo, lurking nearby, grinned. “I can give you fellas tattoos. Great rates.” The very drunk father-son team thought this was an excellent idea and followed him into a dark alley. “Alright, who’s first?” the hobo asked. Corn enthusiastically raised his hand. “I need to get rid of this half-finished swastika,” he slurred before immediately passing out. The hobo went to work. Hours later, Corn awoke, covered in vomit and blood. His arm throbbed. His vision cleared— He screamed. The hobo hadn’t covered the swastika. He had carved an even bigger, crappier one deep into Corn’s bicep. Corn howled in horror. The trucker, lying nearby, jolted awake with a blood-curdling scream. “WHAT THE HECK IS THIS?!” he gasped. On his chest was a crude, childlike carving of an 18-wheeler. Both carvings looked like they had been scratched in with a rusty nail. The hobo was nowhere to be found. All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 8 Corn clutched his arm, shaking. “That’s it! I should have never come to the States!” Tears welled in his eyes. “I thought people would be more accepting of my bigotry here!” The Funky Trucker placed a hand on his shoulder. “Now, now. We can get past this.” Corn ignored him, eyes darting toward a nearby street protest. “There’s a climate change conference down the road. MAGA Guy invited me to protest against climate science.” His voice wavered. “It’s just Mother Earth doing her thing! I’M LEAVING!” “No! I won’t let you! You were doing so well!” the trucker pleaded. “Stay on the path to redemption!” Before the argument could escalate, a large, beat-up van with blacked-out windows pulled up. A slender, weathered old man with a mustache stepped out. “I knew you’d change your mind, Corn.” His voice was gravelly. “Leave this trucker libtard behind and come with me.” He tossed Corn a red hat and a tiki torch. “Get in. We’ve got science to deny.” Corn and the trucker locked eyes— one final, tearful glance. Then, without a word, Corn climbed into the van. “I hate you, Dad!” he screamed as the door slammed shut. The Funky Trucker wiped a tear from his eye. “He’ll be back.” Will Corn return to the path of redemption? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 9 "Hey, cheer up, Corn," MAGA Guy said, pulling into an apartment complex. "I've done a lot of research on YouTube, and I know that humans have no effect on climate change." "We just have to make one stop before the protest. I need my go-go juice if we're going to do this." "...It's crystal meth. You're going to love it," MAGA Guy said proudly. After what seemed like an eternity, he ran out of the apartment complex, covered in blood and lubricant. He frantically fumbled for his keys, panic in his eyes. "We have to get out of here!" he screamed. Corn wrinkled his nose. The van reeked of cigars and something else… something he couldn’t quite place. Just as the realization hit — leather. A gloved hand punched through the window. A rag, soaked in chloroform, pressed against his face. Corn jolted awake as the van hit a speed bump. Both he and MAGA Guy were hogtied in the back. MAGA Guy woke up with a scream. "YOU CUCKS BETTER UNTIE ME RIGHT NOW! THE BRANSON MAGA MILITIA WILL SKIN YOU ALIVE!" "Don't worry," Corn whispered. "My father, the Funky Trucker, will save us. I know he will." "YOU LIBTURDS BETTER LET ME GO RI—!" A ball gag was shoved into MAGA Guy's mouth, silencing him. A deep voice chuckled. "You boys won’t be denying science today. You’re about to be educated in the ways of leather." Will the Funky Trucker come to Corn’s rescue? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 10 MEANWHILE, ON THE INTERSTATE... The Funky Trucker had been driving for two days straight, searching for his newly adopted son. "Where is he?! That MAGA Guy is nothing but trouble!" he growled, gripping the wheel. His only stop had been for a vending machine burrito — a mistake. A rancid explosion of brown sludge filled the cab. "I need my first mate to remove this filthy water!" he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. Then, he noticed a black van tailgating him. It swerved aggressively, weaving in and out of traffic. "This guy is trying to kill me! Well, not today, MFer!" The Funky Trucker grabbed his piss jug and hurled it out the window. It shattered the van’s windshield. Tires screeched. The van veered off the road, flipping onto its side. The Funky Trucker slammed the brakes, grabbed his sawed-off shotgun, and ran toward the wreckage. Two bloody men in leather masks crawled from the overturned vehicle. "What the hell?!" the trucker muttered. One of the men laughed. "We thought you’d want to join your son!" The Funky Trucker immediately shot him in the chest. He turned to the last survivor, shotgun barrel inches from his face. "Where’s my son?" "He’s property of the Leather Master now," the dying man coughed. The trucker pulled the trigger. "I'm coming for you, Corn!" he howled. All will be revealed on the next episode of 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 11 The van screeched to a halt. Corn and MAGA Guy were yanked out, shoved into leather collars and hoods, then dragged into separate rooms. Corn could hear MAGA Guy’s screams echoing from the next room. "RELEASE ME, YOU CUCKS! YOU LIBRURDS BETTAHHHHHHHHHHH—!" Then silence. Then...wet pounding and slapping sounds. Then...muffled sobbing. Hours passed. Corn's door flew open. Several men in leather suits and gimp masks entered the room. One of them looked eerily familiar. "MAGA Guy… is that you?" Corn whispered. MAGA Guy grinned. "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and embrace the way of leather." "What did they do to you?!" Corn stammered in terror. MAGA Guy's smile widened. "Nothing I didn’t like." A deep voice boomed from behind them. "The Leather Master wants to educate this one personally." Corn was dragged into a smoke-filled room. A shadowy figure sat in the corner, exhaling a thick cloud of cigar smoke. "Well, well… if it isn’t the Funky Trucker’s protégé," the figure mused. Corn's stomach churned. "Your father was once a general in my leather army… before going AWOL," the Leather Master continued, smirking. "You’ll be a fine replacement. I’ll make sure your education surpasses your deadbeat father’s." He chuckled, taking another slow drag from his cigar. "Don't you talk about my dad like that!" Corn snarled. At that moment, the rumble of an 18-wheeler shook the room. Tires screeched outside. The Leather Master sighed. "Your father is right on time." Will the Funky Trucker rescue his son? All will be revealed on the next episode of 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 12 The Funky Trucker announced his arrival by tossing a severed head with a gimp mask through the window. “Leather Minions, stop the Funky Trucker now!” the Leather Master frantically demanded. “Yes, Master!” replied the newest leather slave, MAGA Guy. Eager to prove his worth, MAGA Guy ran toward the window. “BEGONE LIBTUR...” Those were the last words that came from MAGA Guy’s mouth as his gimp mask and red hat were reduced to red mist. The Funky Trucker reloaded his shotgun and kicked down the front door. “Corn, where are you?!? MY SON!” the trucker screamed. The advancing leather minions were stopped in their tracks by a barrage of bags containing the trucker's $ht. Rendered sightless by the trucker's brown sludge, the leather minions began to tumble down the stairwell. The trucker dumped a jug filled with p$$ and gas onto the pile of blind leather slaves and lit a match. “Allow me to educate you in the ways of $HT!” the trucker screamed as he flicked the match onto the pile of writhing leather slaves. Meanwhile, in the Leather Master’s office... “You’re in big trouble now,” Corn said with a smirk. “You really think your father can defeat my leather slaves?” the Leather Master confidently asked. At that moment, the door was kicked off its hinges. “Your time has come, Leather Master!” screamed the enraged trucker. “WAIT, WAIT! It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s talk this out!” pleaded the Leather Master. “Maybe we can come to an agreement.” Will the trucker show mercy to the Leather Master? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 13 “You’re lucky it’s Thanksgiving, Leather B1t.c.h!” the trucker yelled. “Because I’m going to feed you a lead buffet!” The trucker pulled the trigger, and the Leather Master let out a short scream before half of his face was turned to mincemeat. The Leather Master lay on the ground, struggling to breathe. “Look, Dad, he’s still alive,” Corn said to the trucker. “He... help me... you twinks,” the Leather Master gasped. “You reap what you sow,” the Funky Trucker said as he p1$$ed on nearby MAGA Guy’s corpse. “And now it’s time for dessert!” said the Funky Trucker as he threw the last of his $ht bombs at the Leather Master’s unrecognizable face. “If you manage to survive, you better change your ways. You’ll live the rest of your life as an outcast,” said the trucker with a smile. The $ht-covered Leather Master then passed out. “You ready for some turkey, Corn?” the trucker asked as he collected the remains of MAGA Guy’s ruined head. “I knew you would save me!” Corn screamed as he was embraced by the Funky Trucker. “I love you, son!” the trucker said as tears fell. “I’m sorry I ever left!” said a tear-soaked Corn. “Let’s hit the road. We’re not finished with the penance tour. We’ve got one last stop to make,” said the trucker as he playfully swung the remains of MAGA Guy’s head. All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 14 The Funky Trucker had been waiting for this moment his whole life. When the ghost of MAGA Guy revealed himself, the Funky Trucker reached into his glovebox and retrieved the perfect weapon. “The power of $ht compels you!” the trucker screamed as he doused MAGA Guy’s ghost in $hty brown liquid. Whatever voodoo/magic the trucker had used worked like a charm. “I WANTED TO HELP WITH THE PENANCE TOUR!” the ghost howled. “YOU LIBTURDS HAVEN’T SEEN THE LAST OF ME!” The spirit dissipated into a brown mist. “I think he wanted to help,” Corn said sadly. “The cretin can’t even help himself,” the trucker replied. “I’m sure that’s not the last we’ll see of him!” He laughed as he put away the $hty brown flask. “The cab is starting to fill again!” the trucker screamed as he pounded another vending machine burrito. The $ht-covered skinhead started to cry. “Corn, what’s wrong?” asked the Funky Trucker. “I’ve been bailing your $ht outta the cab for the past two days! When will we continue the penance tour?!” cried the reformed Nazi. “Don’t worry, son. We’re almost there,” said the Funky Trucker with a smile. All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 15 “Wake up, Corn,” the Funky Trucker said with a smile. Terror had seized Corn’s body. The duo had stopped at Corn’s old trailer park. His mother still lived in that decrepit tin rectangle. “We’re going to inform your mother of your progress,” the trucker said as he shook Corn. “I... I... can’t... I can’t face her,” Corn said shakily. “I emptied her bank account during my last meth binge. That was the last time I was home,” Corn continued, tears streaming down his face. “People change, Corn. She will be excited to see you... Trust me!” the trucker said confidently. “Okay... but I don’t think she’ll be happy,” Corn said as he wiped away his tears. The trailer looked as if renovations were being made. The garden was in pristine condition, and the entrance had a sign warning you to “Live, Laugh, & Love.” Excited to finally meet Corn’s mom, the Funky Trucker pounded on the door. After some shuffling, the largest black man Corn had ever seen opened the entrance. “You must be Corn!” the giant black man smiled. “Come on in, I’ve been dying to meet you!” Will Corn be forgiven by his mother? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 16 The giant black man led them into the kitchen, where Corn’s mother was sitting at the dining table smoking a menthol cigarette. Corn immediately fell to his hands and knees and started sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, Mom! I’m trying to change my ways. The Funky Trucker has taken me under his wing and is teaching me how to be a good man,” Corn pleaded. Just then, the giant black man served up hearty plates of fried chicken and collard greens. Famished from days of non-stop driving, the duo voraciously ate the food. “I should have tried your people’s food long ago!” Corn happily screeched. The black giant’s smile quickly turned to a frown. “Enjoy your little field trip, you Nazi punk!” the black man hissed as the duo passed out mid-meal, their food spiked with roofies. “Your education in leather has just begun!” Corn’s mother said happily. Just then, a van full of leather minions pulled into the driveway. The duo awoke hours later to the screams of a frail black man. Due to his size, the trucker had his own cage, but Corn was cage mates with the enraged actor and singer. “I’m Jussie! You’ll never get away with this!” the frail actor screamed. “IT’S JUSSIE TIME. I’M THE GREATEST ACTO…” Jussie’s pleas were cut short by a ball gag. The actor/dancer/singer began to sob. Will the duo ever escape the Leather Master’s wrath? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 17 “You boys ready to embrace the ways of leather?” asked a gravelly voice from a corner of the dark room. The Funky Trucker lunged forward like a rabid dog. “You’ll be embracing the ways of $ht when I get out of here!” screamed the enraged trucker. He hadn’t eaten in days, and madness was setting in. Jussie’s ball gag had gotten loose, and he was ready to shoot his shot. He was ready to use the power of song to win over the Leather Master. With an unsteady high-pitched voice, he began to sing: “I never meant to cause you any sorrow, I never meant to cause you any pain, I only wanted to one time see you laughing, I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain. PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIIIIIAAAAHHHH!” His pitchy song was cut short by a leather-gloved hand grabbing his throat. “How dare you massacre a classic!” screamed the visibly irritated leather minion as he dragged Jussie from the cage. “Your education starts now!” screamed the minion. The frail, sobbing man was then led upstairs. High-pitched screams and the sound of skin slapping on skin offended the duo’s ears. “We HAVE to escape,” said the defeated trucker. Will Corn and the Funky Trucker escape? Will Jussie survive? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 18 The next morning, a new man entered the basement. The scrawny, leather-clad man seemed familiar. He pranced around the basement humming a sweet melody. It was *Purple Rain*. “I’ve embraced the ways of leather,” said the effeminate leather-clad man. “Jussie is all leather 24/7, my babies!” screeched the newly transformed leather minion. “Snap out of it, Jussie!” screamed the trucker. “Oh baby, I’m just getting started!” Jussie screamed. Just then, another leather minion clumsily entered the room. He was carrying a short-wave radio. His skull was deformed from a gunshot wound, and he was wearing a red MAGA hat. “Remember him?” Jussie asked. “Through Leather Master technology, we brought him back to life,” Jussie giggled. Bumbling MAGA Guy 2.0 sat in the corner with his radio. “Foot with cheese. Foot with cheese,” MAGA Guy repeated into the transmitter. “Foot with cheese!” he howled in excitement. His dumb laughter filled the basement. At least he was finally happy in this state. “This is messed up,” Corn screamed as tears rolled down his face. “Your turn to babysit the invalid,” Jussie said as he left the basement. What will become of Corn and the Funky Trucker? All will be revealed on the next episode of... 100 MILES TO BRANSON: The Corn Saga PART 19 Series Finale of 100 Miles to Branson: The Corn Saga "Where are we?" Corn rasped. The room was completely black, but he could hear the Funky Trucker's labored breathing. "Corn, are you okay?!" the Funky Trucker yelled in confusion. "Why am I hooked up to an IV? And how long have we been here?" Corn asked wearily. After removing the IV from his arm, Corn frantically searched the room for a light switch. Upon finding one, he flipped it - but nothing happened. "The power must be out. I’ll try to find a way out of here," Corn said as he opened the door. "I think we’re in a hospital, but it looks like it’s been looted and long abandoned," he added. Cautiously making his way to the main entrance, Corn slowly pushed the door open. "Something’s not right...It looks like we’re in the middle of a war zone," Corn called back to the Funky Trucker. Just as those words left his lips, a dark figure pounced on him. Corn fought desperately, but the assailant's animalistic ferocity left him helpless. The struggle ended abruptly when a table leg crashed through the attacker's skull. "Get away from my son!" the Funky Trucker roared, repeatedly bashing the assailant. "Oh my God, it bit off my finger!" Corn screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Why does he look like that? He looks like a zombie from one of those movies!" Corn cried out in pain. "Do you think I’ll turn into one of them? I don’t want to become like...that!" he shrieked. "You’ll be fine, son. Here, drink this bottle of beer I found - you’ll need the energy," the Funky Trucker said. "Y’know, I’m not sure how we got here, but as long as we’re together, we can get through anything," he reassured Corn. "Thanks, Dad. I think my penance tour has finally come to an end. It’s been filled with trials and tribulations, but I’m a better person for it," Corn said, embracing the Funky Trucker. "You’ve grown into a fine young man. You have changed and evolved, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. I love you, son," the trucker said, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Hey, look - a sign! It says, Welcome to Malton," Corn said. "Malton? I’ve never heard of such a place," the Funky Trucker said, frowning in confusion. "Shhh! Do you hear that?" Corn asked. The Funky Trucker let out an earth-shattering fart, sending the duo into a fit of laughter. "I’m serious! Do you hear that faint whistling?" Corn pressed. And with a white-hot flash, the city of Malton was wiped from the face of the earth. Disclaimer This story is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and situations portrayed are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The content is intended for entertainment purposes only and should not be interpreted as a reflection of reality. Viewer discretion is advised.