The sordid life of our cliche stoner has of late taken it's toll. The wayward journey of our young protagonist, the unrepentingdled drugged out, and generally over-dosing somewhat, Moon Bong haze, has left him living in a metal shed, in the middle of a Chicago summer, abondened by his family (he couldn't blame though, they had a much better offer and even his limited intelligence battered by the best of drugs, knew that he would have done the same in their place).
Moonbong Haze was fired from Fearless Radio almost a year before, and the family weed business went to hell after his mother and brother split with the aliens. He had to scrounge for food even back then, though, so he was used to it... he had grown up in a house where his mother was an excellent meth cook, though nothing else inspired her to go into the kitchen. Even when he had the radio show, the only actual pay he got was the owner letting him sleep in the doorway on particular cold nights and an endless supply of coffee -- as long as him and his brother always brought the weed. The Haze brothers felt like they had won the lotto.
No one had ever given them much of a reason to hang around anywhere, let alone paid them for the service. They were used to people being nice to them until they had their drugs, then running them off with sticks. There was good reason people didn't want to be around the Haze's in general, and back then, you seldom found Moonbong without his brother Woodstock. A dangerous duo, to say the least. His younger brother travels well armed and is prone toward firing surface to air missiles at passing planes for target practice, has a habit of laying out IED's all over their apartment while too drunk to remember how to pull out his dick to piss, let alone make sure that none of the bombs blow up his brother, his friends, himself. The immortality of the Haze brothers is kind of a given, of course. They were bred in a lab, from a cartoon road runner, a whily coyote, and an old eight track by Cheeks and Chong, though they had no idea about any of that.
Moon Bong Drives everywhere too stoned to see through the windsheild, relying on minor accidents to stop him instead of harshing his buzz by getting the brakes fixed. He believes that if he is lucky, he can just start the car, put it in gear, put a rock on the accelerator and close his eyes... and the car will drive itself. He tries this two or three times before he will actually admit he has no luck and will have to steer... some.
He tires to earn money through various capatilist adventures that come to him when he is very stoned and make sense only as long as he can remain very stoned and keep everyone around him stoned.
He actually did have quite a little business during the radio show, the infamous Gerbongs, a cadre of air tank wearing rodents who he had spent years training to clean bongs. They had there own song, and an avid following until it was discovered that the gerbils often drowned and clogged the bong up into such a mess that they were best thrown away. After that was a cat cleaning service, which he learned by spending an afternoon on mushrooms watching a cat with kittens. Again, at first people were willing to hire him, for ridiculously low amounts-- what have I got to lose prices of fifty cents. Soon enough Moonbong was hacking up softball sized furballs, and snorting ounces of cat nip just to get out of his litter box in the morning (he had a confusing notion that the cats slept in the box because they too,like him, had chronic bed wetting issues).
Moonbong is also known for having a penis minute enough to make a strong case for some kind sexual reconstructive surgery.
The Haze family included Mama Haze, Woodstock, and Moonbong. The mother has gang bangs that required specially made cum shovels to clean up afterward. The boys were disgusted by the duty, but since their mother controls their drug supply, they feel they have little choice except to go along with her.
Picking up with Moonbong now, his mother and brother have abondoned him, after being offered an invitation to an intergalactic orgy, which Moonbong, while originally invited, was soon enough kicked out because of basic worthlessness at any attribute another human wants in a sex partner... which brings us to beastiality, the farm boys right hand. Moonbong is just the right size for mating with rodents. I will not go too far into this since I am writing about Moonbong for the weekly bulliten at a senior citizens home (at least, that is my target audience... keep your fingers crossed); suffice to say he started out wrestling gerbils on the boardwalk for tips, which he took very seriously despite the size differences, and was indeed badly mawled a few times before ultimatly falling for a fair maiden who dropped, by her tail, into his life one otherwise ordinary, for him.... day.
His choice of drugs and lifestyles is not for the faint of hearted. Or actually anyone who wants to keep their heart beating. He has overdosed daily, when possible, since discovering drugs, in his mothers womb, at Woodstock.
Among his actual enemies (he makes up most of them), is the original artist in black standing sullen in the back, Johnny Pain. JP is an old rogue spy from a family of serial killers who do just enough hits for the intelligence angncies and cops to be left alone, mostly. He is a much older, lonelier, more perverse and wasted version of the Johnny Pain he makes out like he is in his blogs. He gets pissed off occasionally and goes on killing spree's for causes, but mostly he is just kind of a boof in most respects. His violence helped the crew at the Radio Show take over the world at one point -- a feat he acheived accidently, on a lark... though he was too embarrassed to own up to that, so he made a few changes for the better in the world and then went back to his house, which has every window covered in black trash bags, where he has stayed for the last three months, living on daily deliveries of smokes, booze, drugs, and, when at all possible, siamese twin prostitutes,or people who will agree to be sewn together for a few bucks.
He is also the only one who will give Moonbong a place to stay. He does so simply because he has felt that sooner or later he was going to kill that damn pseudo-hippy stoner and he didn't want to wast time looking for him when the mood came.
Moonbong is very wary of Johnny Pain, who at one point cut off all of his fingers and had him tortured for a few months purely because he could. If not for the roof over his head... the metal shed where he kept his bong and sleeping bag... he woud not have actually risked his life by coming anywhere near Johnny Pain. Pain has a huge crop of weed growing in his backyard, so always let a stoner or two sleep in the garage for security purposes. They also came in handy if he needed to frame someone for a murder -- which was indeed one of his hobbies, along with taxidermy -- he specialized in fetuses, corning the nitche market with hard care pro-lifers..
Ugh.... these characters are repulsive... an attempt at comedic thought to clear these damn poems out of my head.
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