Written by Scratchwork Addumz. If you're going to narrate this, at least reference his name appropriately. Thx
Did you ever hear of Doc Mcstuffins? It's what gathers in your naivel if you ignore the area when you bathe. I was the former CEO of Tolstoy Toys, Inc., a subsidiary of Mattel, when the boss called me into the office to view a new tape real of his favorite cartoon shows. It was Doc Mcstuffins! The young African American child who had a pet dragon and frog child.
A very, very strange lost episode appeared on my desk one day. It was covered in blood, and the letters were also in creepy blood font. It was oddly titled “Doc Mcstuffins Drinks Poisoned Gatorade.” I shuddered. Who at the office would place such a VHS in my local possession.
I put the tape on, as a former manager at Disney, I knew doc mcstuffins was a doctor, but here she had mr. potato head with his chest cavity cut open. Blood, tomatoes, human organs and dead parasites were in his chest cavity.
“What are they gonna do to me doc mcstuffins?” The potato-faced man said, his chest cavity was cut open and you could even see had a potato-shaped chest cavity, with visible bones as he had been cut open. “Let’s get out of here.” He whispered. He shoved several stuffed animals in his chest cavity and sewed it shut with some baking utensils.
“What the fuck are you doing?” It was doc Mcstuffins, and she looked disheveled.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Wait a minute… that wasn’t doc mcstuffins. It was my boss! Fidel Flinstone. The Hispanic gentleman leered at me. “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING BACK HERE FOR SIX YEARS?” He looked really pissed, and he was in the normal leopard print costume you would see on the show.
I shuddered. He got into my face, really, really into my face, and I could see he was visibly fuming, fuming with anger, he was visibly angry.
“YABBA DABBA FIRE YOU!” He picked up a club and brutally started smashing, and smashing, and smashing it into my head. I screamed. “I’m an intern we have to watch doc mcstuffins-“ He smashed, and smashed, and smashed me in the face again, with blood pouring out of my nostrils. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE REWINDING THESE, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FUCKING. REWINDING THESE.” He kept saying “fucking rewinding” over and over as he smashed my head in, and smashed, and smashed, and smashed my head in. “Please Mr. Flintstone-“ He picked up a stapler shoved my head into the desk, and stapled my cheek to the desk. Blood began to pour from the holes. “Please mr. flinstone, fidel-“ I was just trying to watch the lost episode, the lost episode of Doc Mcstuffins. “I’LL DOC MCSTUFF YOU!” He yelled. He shoved an entire package of tape, glue and crumpled up newspaper in my mouth, forcing me to swallow it.
“Mr flintst-“ He took a pair of scissors out, placed my hand on the desk, and slammed the scissors into the center of my head, completely cutting through the bone and flesh and penetrating the particle board desk. He smashed the VHS tapes on my head, smashed, and then he took the ribbon out, and he wrapped the ribbon around my neck, “no I screamed!” “Somebody call a doctor!” He yelled, imitating the voice of Wilma from the flintstones. “He’s chokin’ on his own tongue!” Indeed, I had swallowed my tongue. He took out a pitcher of ice cold fruit punch and began mixing it with the newspaper, pouring both into my chest cavity along with several pounds of dynomite, but it was called dinosaurmite to fit in with the flintstones-themed situation now occurring.
It’s true- I couldn’t lie to myself- everything he was was true, and more. There were no lost episodes- I was just trying to be a big man. I was just trying to seem cool online. But I wasn’t cool online or offline. Unless you meat temperature-wise, as Mr. Fidel poured additional ice cold cubes of ice inside my chest cavity.
He sliced off my nose, eye lids, and resewed the cut-off flesh to resemble that of a pterodactyl beak, and he reattached it, painting me green. This was no arts and crafts day. I tried to continue watching doc mcstuffins but it was too late, I could no longer breathe, just barely, through one air hole, as Fred had cut my ribcage open to create bleeding fish lungs.
And then he got a ladder, and, using the left over VHS tape ribbon from the lost episode fiasco, wrapped it around my wheezing, bleeding body, and tied me to the roof. “Who wants to hit the fliñata?!” It all made sense now, doc mcstuffins, it was a deep metaphor, I… was a deep metaphor.
That was when a man walked in in a George Jetson costume. Yes… it was, could it be? THE George Jetson? I tried to take a deep breath, but my eyes were dry because my eyelids had been cut off. “Yabba dabba die!” My Hispanic boss yelled.
“Do you have the file, Mr. Flintstone?” It was George. “Yes.” He smiled. He handed mr. jetson my medical records. “Well then, let’s get to work.” He picked up a louisville slugger, and at first, I thought he was going to hit me with it. Insead, they started playing little league softball, while the jetsons and flinstones extended family entered, and they began having a big fucking party, and they were doing cocaine. I mean it looked like cocain, my nostrils had been sewn shut so I don’t really know.
Mr. Flinstone took out a .42 caliber magnum revolver and shot me in the lung, igniting the gunpowder and completely fossilizing me as rigor mortis set in, I…was the piñata, and life. Life is Cinco de Mayo.
Stuffins, Meet Doc Stuffins
It’s modern day television programming
From the Town of Bedrock
They’re gonna kill your fucking family
Let’s do cocaine with the family down the street
Through the courtesy of Fred’s two feet
When you’re with the fuckstones
Have a yabba dabba doo time, you’l l have a fucking dew time,
We’ll have a fucking gay old time