>CWC wins the lego contest he put $700 towards
>a weekend in Legoland for two
>all expenses paid
>Chris doesn't have a girlfriend or a friend to take with him so he takes his mother.
>Chris has the time of his life
>Barb enjoys herself too.
>They have separate rooms but it's their first time away from the house in a long time and it feels strange
>They decide to share a bed like they do sometimes at home
>In bed they cuddle and hold hands
>Chris thinks about his life and how this weekend has been happier and more carefree than any other day of his life. This weekend he forgot about the trolls and his exhausting soul destroying love quest, the filthy cramped house.
>Barb realises she hasn't smiled this much in a long time. Not since Bob died.
>She remembers his passing and her feelings of regret for not making more of an effort to make their latter years happier for him.
>They had forgotten how to get along like they did when they first met.
>They were too busy raising Chris.
>Raising him for 28 long years.
>He couldn't do a thing for himself.
>No. He could. He just wouldn't.
>He drained the life out of them, drained their finances, drained Bob's lifelong savings, made them move to Ruckersville, publicly embarassed them locally dressing like a woman in public and wordwide via the internet, caused them to be harassed day in day out in a number of ways by strangers over the phone and mail, left them with nothing, not even good memories.
>And for what?
>Still sitting in his room playing with his toys all day, a perpetual 8 year old.
>Too busy thinking about himself to even acknowledge their sacrifices and suffering for him >Chris feels his mother's grip on his hand tighten
>"Could ya loosen up a little, mommy? You're hurting my hand there."
>Barb lets go and turns around to face him.
>She kneels up in the bed and grabs him by the throat
>"Mommy, what are you doing?!" he croaks through gritted teeth failing to loosen her grip.
>"You're *crag*in' pathetic, Christopher! Ya can't do nothin' not for yourself, not for no one you lazy piece o' shit! Your daddy's dead and he died painful and miserable! You did it! You *crag*in' did this! Mine and Robert's life weren't but shit 'cause o' you!"
>From the light shining through the window she can see that Chris' face is swollen with tears streaming from his eyes and some drool from his mouth.
>She lets go of his throat then realising how tightly she'd been gripping it.
>Seconds pass. Silence.
>Chris coughs and wheezes gasping for air.
>Barb stands and Chris sits on the edge of the bed scared and limp.
>He looks up at her.
>He can't see her face in the dark room.
>"My poor Christopher." she says in a soft voice.
>"Thirty two years old and just a boy. Ain’t but a boy." now sounding detached.
>"No job, no friends and aint never had no pussy."
>"Have you, boy? Never kissed no girls, never done nothin'! No wonder they're callin' you a *crag*in' queer. No wonder you aint shit!"
>She slaps Chris hard across the face knocking him back on the bed.
>"Mommy please stop! What have I done wrong? Wh-what has gotten into you?"
>"I'll tell you what's gotten into me or whut's gon' get into me..." her voice trembling with anger.
>She reaches up her night dress and pulls down her underwear.
>"You are". >She grabs at Chris' briefs, scratching his thighs with her nails and she pulls them off.
>She grabs Chris' flaccid penis and starts stroking it violently, thumping him in the pelvis with each stroke.
>”We’ll see if we can turn you from a boy into a *crag*in’ man. Want your ‘china’ you *crag*ing *crag*? You’re about to git it let me tell you! You’re gonna be all grown up in a minute!”
>She climbs on to Chris and grinds hard on him until she finds him, until she receives him
>As she thrusts she pushes on Chris’ face with her hands while he grunts and moans desperately, unable to cry or say anything.
>Chris’ abdomen lurches bringing the ordeal to it’s conclusion. >They put their underwear back on.
>Barb pulls the duvet up off the floor covering them.
>Chris turns away from her and lays near the edge of the bed and stares at the light shining in the window.
>Barb rolls away from him, pulling the duvet partially off of him.
>Chris doesn’t reach to re-adjust the duvet. He doesn’t move. >On the drive back to Ruckersville Barb doesn’t talk to Chris.
>Chris is expressionless and focuses on the road.
>They arrive back at the house and unpack the car.
>Barb instructs Chris on where to put everything.
>He goes to the bathroom and shuts the door.
>He looks at the grime in the bath and on the grout between the tiles.
>He looks at himself in the mirror and runs two fingers through the ends of his long fair hair now past his shoulder.
>He takes a scissors from the cabinet and looks at it for a minute, then at his reflection. He then returns the scissors to its place in the cabinet.
>Chris gets in the car and goes down to the local barber and gets a neat haircut; shaved at the back and sides with enough left on top to gel and comb. >Back home sitting in his room Chris stares at his prize-winning Lego Manchester Highschool.
>He pulls the owl off the roof of the building.
>He pulls the roof off and then the first floor, then lifts the base and it falls into two pieces, little characters dropping to the floor.
>He drops each section into a black refuse sack. He kicks the sack breaking up the lego even more.
>He gathers everything he considers trash in his room and throws it in the sack on top of the Lego pieces.
>Finds some boxes in the living room.
>Spends the night taking pictures of his toys and packing them into boxes.
>Goes out into the hallway and scans his surroundings. >Over the next few months Chris has managed to clear out almost all of the house.
>His belongings sell remarkably fast on ebay due to Chris selling everything for next to nothing combined with his dubious internet popularity.
>He has scrubbed and vacuumed the house to the best of his ability and used Google to help him with what he’ll need and the “how-tos”.
>The house was clean and fresh smelling, the cats and dogs no longer allowed in-doors and chris microwaved and eventually began cooking meals for himself and Barb.
>He would serve her meals to her but they would eat in separate rooms.
>Chris would lock his door each night before bed but there were never any attempts to enter.
>Barbara looks around the house and marvels at the wonderful job Chris has done.
>They had been making pleasant exchanges occasionally but didn’t behave too close or familiar with eachother
>Chris has barely said a word
>She smiles at Chris sometimes, he sometimes forces a smile back
>Despite the clean house, Barb feels unwell lately.
>She is confined to her bedroom for weeks, Chris bringing her food and taking out her buckets of vomit.
>The house is now clean but there are never any visitors and Barb does not go anywhere nor will she see a doctor. >One night Chris hears Barb moaning and retching.
>He does nothing.
>Her moaning gets loud and erratic for about half an hour and then there’s silence.
>He is now curious so he unlocks his bedroom door and makes his way to her room.
>Approaching the door he hears her crying.
>He can also hear another voice crying.
>He opens the door.
>Barbs legs are spread, there’s blood all over the sheets.
>A tiny body lays covered in blood between Barbs thighs
>Chris stares at the child and his wailing mother.
>”Look!” hisses Barb.
>”Look what you did you *crag*in’ retard! You are goin’ to hell for this! You will burn in HELL for all eternity! Now get the *crag* over here and clean me up!”
>Chris walks across the room to the bedside.
>”Don’t *crag*in’ stare at me, get water and towels!”
>Chris pulls the leg from a chair by the bed and clubs Barb three times in the skull.
>Blood sprays from the head wound and seeps from her mouth and nose.
>Chris takes a steak knife from a dinner plate on the dresser and takes it to the crying newborn.
>He cuts the umbilical cord near the belly button.
>He leaves Barb’s body in her room and locks the door behind him, baby in his arms.
>He undresses and runs a bath. >Chris sits in the bloody bathwater with the baby girl in his arms, no longer crying, clean and soothed by the warm water.
>Her head is unnaturally big and mis-shapen her limbs contorted.
>”Well… you’ve finally arrived, Crystal.” says Chris.
>He then makes the same high-pitched voice as he does for a Sonee.
>”Daddy? Is it weally you?”
>”Yes, my sweet. It is I your father, Christian Weston Chandler.”
>”Yaaaayyy we are finawy togetherrr!”
>”And I am so glad to finally have you in my arms, dear.”
>”Where is mommy?”
>”Your m- Your mommy is in heaven now. But do not be sad for I will look after you always.” he says with a smile.
>”Aw that’s so sad. At weast I get to meet your fwiends Sonichu and Wosechu now awong with the west of the ewectwic hedgehog Pokemon and other Cwcville chawacters!”
>”Hmm, yeah, uh-yes you will Crystal. We must go now to the portal to Cwcville where Sonichu awaits us.”
>”Oh yaaaaay! I can’t wait! Wet’s go, wet’s go!”
>Chris climbs out of the bath with the baby and takes her to the basement.
>”Well, here’s the portal, Crystal. You go on ahead, Daddy has some things to do first.”
>”Oh wow, this portal is weawy cool! Put me in, put me in!”
>”In you go, dear. Daddy loves you!”
>”I wuv you too, Daddy! Heehee!” >Chris walks around the house with the drum of gasoline from the basement. He pours a trail through the hallways and on the furniture ending his trail back in the basement.
>He pours what’s left in the drum over his head all over his naked body.
>Holding a lighter he looks in through the window of the furiously spinning tumble dryer at the broken body whizzing around inside.
>”I’ll see you in Cwcville, sweetheart!”
>With a smile he ignites himself.
You obviously arrived at the wrong part of 2014. I can tell because I am still talking to you from the future, so evidently you haven't gone far enough yet.
He's lying there's nothing but shattered hopes, dreams, expectations and bones
>a weekend in Legoland for two
>all expenses paid
>Chris doesn't have a girlfriend or a friend to take with him so he takes his mother.
>Chris has the time of his life
>Barb enjoys herself too.
>They have separate rooms but it's their first time away from the house in a long time and it feels strange
>They decide to share a bed like they do sometimes at home
>In bed they cuddle and hold hands
>Chris thinks about his life and how this weekend has been happier and more carefree than any other day of his life. This weekend he forgot about the trolls and his exhausting soul destroying love quest, the filthy cramped house.
>Barb realises she hasn't smiled this much in a long time. Not since Bob died.
>She remembers his passing and her feelings of regret for not making more of an effort to make their latter years happier for him.
>They had forgotten how to get along like they did when they first met.
>They were too busy raising Chris.
>Raising him for 28 long years.
>He couldn't do a thing for himself.
>No. He could. He just wouldn't.
>He drained the life out of them, drained their finances, drained Bob's lifelong savings, made them move to Ruckersville, publicly embarassed them locally dressing like a woman in public and wordwide via the internet, caused them to be harassed day in day out in a number of ways by strangers over the phone and mail, left them with nothing, not even good memories.
>And for what?
>Still sitting in his room playing with his toys all day, a perpetual 8 year old.
>Too busy thinking about himself to even acknowledge their sacrifices and suffering for him
>Chris feels his mother's grip on his hand tighten
>"Could ya loosen up a little, mommy? You're hurting my hand there."
>Barb lets go and turns around to face him.
>She kneels up in the bed and grabs him by the throat
>"Mommy, what are you doing?!" he croaks through gritted teeth failing to loosen her grip.
>"You're *crag*in' pathetic, Christopher! Ya can't do nothin' not for yourself, not for no one you lazy piece o' shit! Your daddy's dead and he died painful and miserable! You did it! You *crag*in' did this! Mine and Robert's life weren't but shit 'cause o' you!"
>From the light shining through the window she can see that Chris' face is swollen with tears streaming from his eyes and some drool from his mouth.
>She lets go of his throat then realising how tightly she'd been gripping it.
>Seconds pass. Silence.
>Chris coughs and wheezes gasping for air.
>Barb stands and Chris sits on the edge of the bed scared and limp.
>He looks up at her.
>He can't see her face in the dark room.
>"My poor Christopher." she says in a soft voice.
>"Thirty two years old and just a boy. Ain’t but a boy." now sounding detached.
>"No job, no friends and aint never had no pussy."
>"Have you, boy? Never kissed no girls, never done nothin'! No wonder they're callin' you a *crag*in' queer. No wonder you aint shit!"
>She slaps Chris hard across the face knocking him back on the bed.
>"Mommy please stop! What have I done wrong? Wh-what has gotten into you?"
>"I'll tell you what's gotten into me or whut's gon' get into me..." her voice trembling with anger.
>She reaches up her night dress and pulls down her underwear.
>"You are".
>She grabs at Chris' briefs, scratching his thighs with her nails and she pulls them off.
>She grabs Chris' flaccid penis and starts stroking it violently, thumping him in the pelvis with each stroke.
>”We’ll see if we can turn you from a boy into a *crag*in’ man. Want your ‘china’ you *crag*ing *crag*? You’re about to git it let me tell you! You’re gonna be all grown up in a minute!”
>She climbs on to Chris and grinds hard on him until she finds him, until she receives him
>As she thrusts she pushes on Chris’ face with her hands while he grunts and moans desperately, unable to cry or say anything.
>Chris’ abdomen lurches bringing the ordeal to it’s conclusion.
>They put their underwear back on.
>Barb pulls the duvet up off the floor covering them.
>Chris turns away from her and lays near the edge of the bed and stares at the light shining in the window.
>Barb rolls away from him, pulling the duvet partially off of him.
>Chris doesn’t reach to re-adjust the duvet. He doesn’t move.
>On the drive back to Ruckersville Barb doesn’t talk to Chris.
>Chris is expressionless and focuses on the road.
>They arrive back at the house and unpack the car.
>Barb instructs Chris on where to put everything.
>He goes to the bathroom and shuts the door.
>He looks at the grime in the bath and on the grout between the tiles.
>He looks at himself in the mirror and runs two fingers through the ends of his long fair hair now past his shoulder.
>He takes a scissors from the cabinet and looks at it for a minute, then at his reflection. He then returns the scissors to its place in the cabinet.
>Chris gets in the car and goes down to the local barber and gets a neat haircut; shaved at the back and sides with enough left on top to gel and comb.
>Back home sitting in his room Chris stares at his prize-winning Lego Manchester Highschool.
>He pulls the owl off the roof of the building.
>He pulls the roof off and then the first floor, then lifts the base and it falls into two pieces, little characters dropping to the floor.
>He drops each section into a black refuse sack. He kicks the sack breaking up the lego even more.
>He gathers everything he considers trash in his room and throws it in the sack on top of the Lego pieces.
>Finds some boxes in the living room.
>Spends the night taking pictures of his toys and packing them into boxes.
>Goes out into the hallway and scans his surroundings.
>Over the next few months Chris has managed to clear out almost all of the house.
>His belongings sell remarkably fast on ebay due to Chris selling everything for next to nothing combined with his dubious internet popularity.
>He has scrubbed and vacuumed the house to the best of his ability and used Google to help him with what he’ll need and the “how-tos”.
>The house was clean and fresh smelling, the cats and dogs no longer allowed in-doors and chris microwaved and eventually began cooking meals for himself and Barb.
>He would serve her meals to her but they would eat in separate rooms.
>Chris would lock his door each night before bed but there were never any attempts to enter.
>Barbara looks around the house and marvels at the wonderful job Chris has done.
>They had been making pleasant exchanges occasionally but didn’t behave too close or familiar with eachother
>Chris has barely said a word
>She smiles at Chris sometimes, he sometimes forces a smile back
>Despite the clean house, Barb feels unwell lately.
>She is confined to her bedroom for weeks, Chris bringing her food and taking out her buckets of vomit.
>The house is now clean but there are never any visitors and Barb does not go anywhere nor will she see a doctor.
>One night Chris hears Barb moaning and retching.
>He does nothing.
>Her moaning gets loud and erratic for about half an hour and then there’s silence.
>He is now curious so he unlocks his bedroom door and makes his way to her room.
>Approaching the door he hears her crying.
>He can also hear another voice crying.
>He opens the door.
>Barbs legs are spread, there’s blood all over the sheets.
>A tiny body lays covered in blood between Barbs thighs
>Chris stares at the child and his wailing mother.
>”Look!” hisses Barb.
>”Look what you did you *crag*in’ retard! You are goin’ to hell for this! You will burn in HELL for all eternity! Now get the *crag* over here and clean me up!”
>Chris walks across the room to the bedside.
>”Don’t *crag*in’ stare at me, get water and towels!”
>Chris pulls the leg from a chair by the bed and clubs Barb three times in the skull.
>Blood sprays from the head wound and seeps from her mouth and nose.
>Chris takes a steak knife from a dinner plate on the dresser and takes it to the crying newborn.
>He cuts the umbilical cord near the belly button.
>He leaves Barb’s body in her room and locks the door behind him, baby in his arms.
>He undresses and runs a bath.
>Chris sits in the bloody bathwater with the baby girl in his arms, no longer crying, clean and soothed by the warm water.
>Her head is unnaturally big and mis-shapen her limbs contorted.
>”Well… you’ve finally arrived, Crystal.” says Chris.
>He then makes the same high-pitched voice as he does for a Sonee.
>”Daddy? Is it weally you?”
>”Yes, my sweet. It is I your father, Christian Weston Chandler.”
>”Yaaaayyy we are finawy togetherrr!”
>”And I am so glad to finally have you in my arms, dear.”
>”Where is mommy?”
>”Your m- Your mommy is in heaven now. But do not be sad for I will look after you always.” he says with a smile.
>”Aw that’s so sad. At weast I get to meet your fwiends Sonichu and Wosechu now awong with the west of the ewectwic hedgehog Pokemon and other Cwcville chawacters!”
>”Hmm, yeah, uh-yes you will Crystal. We must go now to the portal to Cwcville where Sonichu awaits us.”
>”Oh yaaaaay! I can’t wait! Wet’s go, wet’s go!”
>Chris climbs out of the bath with the baby and takes her to the basement.
>”Well, here’s the portal, Crystal. You go on ahead, Daddy has some things to do first.”
>”Oh wow, this portal is weawy cool! Put me in, put me in!”
>”In you go, dear. Daddy loves you!”
>”I wuv you too, Daddy! Heehee!”
>Chris walks around the house with the drum of gasoline from the basement. He pours a trail through the hallways and on the furniture ending his trail back in the basement.
>He pours what’s left in the drum over his head all over his naked body.
>Holding a lighter he looks in through the window of the furiously spinning tumble dryer at the broken body whizzing around inside.
>”I’ll see you in Cwcville, sweetheart!”
>With a smile he ignites himself.
i'm never in the good timelines
you know i find it funny how CWC's house burnt down not long after fortran shared that story.
wow nice anti-bumping gaycis