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Monthly Archives: March 2017

Watermelon Sam

24 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories

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Tags

arkansas, pitchfork, serial killer, tourists, watermelon

If you are taking a drive along the lonely roads of southern Arkansas.

You will come across a wobbly old sign ‘Melons For Sale’

But let me give you a word of advice.

Just buy your melons and be on your way.

Better still ignore the sign and keep on going.

And don’t look back.

The owner of the melon farm is a cranky old timer named Sam Hendry.

He has a reputation as a man not to mess with.

But he sure does know his melons

He grows any type of melon that you could ever want.

But watermelons are his speciality.

They are his pride and joy.

Just hand over your money and be on your way

Don’t try to haggle over the price.

Water melon Sam got his nickname when he was a little lad.

He would eat up to ten watermelons every single day.

In fact nobody has ever seen him eat anything else.

He would demolish those melons seeds and all.

As the water ran down his chin Sam would stare off into space.

Rubbing his crotch with a creepy evil grin.

Sam Hendry has loved on the farm all of his life.

It has been in his family for five generations.

But this generation will be the last.

Watermelon Sam is now forty five years old.

And in that time he has never ventured more than fifty miles.

Once a month he drives into town to buy his supplies.

Then he scurries on back home.

The outside world doesn’t interest him at all.

All he wants is to be left alone with his melons.

If you leave him alone he will give you no harm

But if you disturb his isolation he will kill you in a heartbeat.

At fifteen Sam took a life for the first time.

In fact he took two.

He decided that his parents were getting in the way so they had to go.

He tied them to chairs in the kitchen and force fed them watermelon

until they choked.

He got all hard and excited as he watched his mother and father breathe

their last breath.

He never loved his parents when they were alive.

But he smiled and welcomed their death.

He left them tied to the chairs for over a week

Until they started to stink and become over ripe.

Than he buried them out in the water melon patch.

Over the following weeks he watched in amazement as his melons grew

like never before.

Obviously his new fertiliser is working wonders.

Nothing is better for your garden than human blood and bone.

Thirty years later and Sam is digging in his garden when a car drives into the farm.

He hates the intrusion,but at the same time he knows that the tourists supply him

with his needs.

They spend their money and take away a melon and a little taste of his ma and pa.

While others stay behind to supply nutrients for his melons.

You might of heard about the missing tourists on the evening news.

Every few months or so for the last thirty years.

A tourist has gone missing in Southern Arkansas.

The last tourist went missing three days ago.

Michael Tomkins was a businessman from Kansas who was on his way

home to his family.

But he made a huge mistake he decided to stop at a farm to buy some melons.

Watermelon Sam heard the car drive arrive and came to the decision that this tourist wasn’t going home.

So he put a smile on his face and acted real nice as the guy got out of his car.

‘Howdy there what can i do for ya? Michael is a little taken aback by this odd looking

old man.

But he smiles and says ‘Just a few Melons to take back to Kansas’

Watermelon Sam shows him over to the melon patch and tells the tourist to pick out the

melons that he wants.

Right in the middle of the patch is a freshly dug hole seven foot long and three foot deep.

Michael turns and asks and Sam ‘What is that hole for? Are you going to bury a dead calf?

Watermelon Sam shakes his head and says ‘No,I am going to bury a dead human’

It takes a second for the words to compute in Michael’s brain.

He goes to run but he doesn’t get very far.

Watermelon Sam picks up a pitchfork and runs it through Michael’s stomach.

Michael wriggles like fish on the end of a hook.

The pitchfork is stuck fast so Sam walks him over to the hole and drops him in.

Blood is gurgling from the tourists mouth but Sam couldn’t care less.

He puts his foot on his chest and after a struggle the pitchfork comes free.

Words are coming from the mouth of the dying man .

Sam doesn’t listen he covers him in three feet of dirt and walks away.

Sam is feeling mighty pleased with himself.

He is sitting on his front porch looking out over his garden.

If he owned a banjo he would be playing it right now.

But his hands are full.

He is devouring yet another watermelon.

He eats that melon like a man possessed.

But he is eating way too fast and one of the seeds goes down the wrong way.

Sam starts to choke he coughs and hacks trying to bring up that seed.

But all he achieves is to swallow that seed even further.

But at least he can breathe normally again.

Sam has no idea what is happening inside his body.

That seed has lodged inside his gut and has started to germinate.

A few days later Sam is starting to feel unwell and a bit bloated.

He hasn’t been to the toilet for two days.

He is backed up all the way to hell.

Sam rally needs to poo.

He stumbles around his watermelon patch like a crazy man.

Than he feels a tickle from his arsehole.

Maybe there is some relief after all.

He pulls down his pants and squats over his blessed earth.

A watermelon root sprouts from his arse and makes a bee line into the

dirt.

Sam tries to stand but he is stuck fast.

Mire roots appear from every orifice in his body.

Sam starts to panic.

Maybe if he can take a shit he can escape from this torture?

So he pushes and strains trying to open his bowels.

Sam is sweating with the effort God am i am shitting a bowling Ball?’

It isn’t a bowling ball but a huge watermelon.

Sams arsehole is stretched to the limit.

Then it snaps.

The watermelon plops out quickly followed by his intestines and something

that might be his colon or prostate.

Sam starts to pray and ask for forgiveness.

But it is way too little way too fucking late.

All of the roots have travelled down his body and taken anchor.

For watermelon Sam there is to be no escape.

Another root has sprouted from his shrivelled cock and out of his piss hole.

And it buries itself into the ground.

As Sam struggles for his life a hundred pair of hands appear from the tainted

earth.

His mother and father pull the hardest.

They want to make sure that their son cant hurt anybody else.

They pull and pull all the way down to the earths core.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you make a donation so i can reach my goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END

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Squeeze The Clouds

10 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, Uncategorized

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Tags

dream, drought, hope, prayer, rain, weather

My family has been living on the land for over five

generations.

Since 1860 we have produced the finest woo in the

state.

The fleece has won more blue ribbons than you can poke

a stick at.

But now the sheep are dying out in the paddocks.

It hasn’t rained in over a year.

The clouds refuse to shed even a single tear.

My name is Rodney Swain and i am ten years old.

And i know that my family is hurting.

I would do anything to make them happy.

I wish that i could climb a giant ladder and reach up into

the heavens.

I would squeeze the clouds until they cry.

Cant they see that the grass is brown and dying?

So why aren’t the clouds crying?

Every night after the evening meal.

We would all sit out on the back porch hoping to see

lightning and the sound of thunder.

But as usual the sky is full of stars there isn’t a cloud in

sight.

How can mummy and daddy continue the fight?

I work beside daddy everyday before and after school

Trying to keep the farm afloat

But how can you feed your livestock when the grass id dead

And the top soil has blown away?

Sometimes i see daddy wiping the tears from his eyes as he hand

feeds the animals

As i watch him a say a little prayer. ‘Please God make it rain so daddy

can get some rest’

‘We really need some rain to  to fill the rivers and dams’

That should put on smile on the faces of all the ewes and the randy

rams’

But still it doesn’t rain.

Maybe if i place on top of each other and climb that that giant ladder

I can reach high enough to squeeze the clouds.

And hopefully they will co operate and release some steady rain.

Don’t they realise you can only take so much heartache and pain?

In wake up in the morning in sheets wet with my sweat

6 am and already the heat is stifling.

Why does summer have to be so hot?

Cant there be a season where it doesn’t get above 28 degrees

and it rains every second day?

Why does my family and all the other families have to always live

in drought?

All we need is a little precipitation.

To saturate the whole god damn nation.

The situation is getting drastic.

We reply on the rain for our very existence.

It hasn’t rained in three long years.

Today the temperature is forecast to reach 43 degrees

And the following will be more of the same.

The girl on the weather channel predicts the weather with a smile

She says there wont be any rain for quite a while.

How can she smile when families on the land are hurting?

Doesn’t she know that farmers are killing themselves?

Because the clouds refuse to yield

Bills still need to be paid and everyone has to eat.

There is never enough money to go around.

All because of a lack of water.

Why doesn’t it rain so win can win the fight and stop the slaughter?

Maybe if i stack the three on top of five barns.

I will be able to climb the giant ladder and squeeze the clouds.

Until they start to weep.

Than we can all rest easy and finally get some sleep.

Another three months has gone by.

And still the clouds refuse to budge.

They turn black and threaten a down pour.

But it is all just sound and bluster.

Soon all of the clouds disappear over the horizon.

And once again it is clear skies sunshine and heat.

My family and the community are all strong.

But this time i think they are beat.

Maybe if i stack the three tractors on top of the five barns

along with seven houses.

I can climb the giant ladder and reach up and squeeze the clouds.

And they will open up and supply us all with days of steady rain.

So it can soak into the earth and turn the grass green

Fill all of the rivers creeks dams and water tanks.

I would look up into the clouds and scream THANKS

Another six months has passed.

And there hasn’t been a single drop.

So once again i start to think.

What if i stacked the three tractors on top of the five barns.

Along with the seven farm houses.

Than if i added nine skyscrapers  i could climb that giant ladder

And squeeze the clouds and those fuckers will relent to my touch.

Cause when you think about i am not really asking for much.

Sorry for saying the swear word out loud.

Please don’t tell mummy or daddy because i would get a belting.

I promise not to do it again,now where was i ?

‘Rodney’

I am startled to hear my mummy’s voice.

And also to find myself standing on the roof of our house.

Jumping up and down doing a rain dance.

‘Get down from there right this minute,or you will get a belting

you wont forget in a hurry’

I don’t know what i am doing,but i start to chant and pray.

I close my eyes and imagine those three tractors stacked on top of

the five barns.

Along with the seven farm houses with the nine skyscrapers.

I see myself climbing that giant ladder and reaching up to

squeeze the clouds.

And do you know what?

I can feel my fingers getting wet.

So i squeeze a little harder and the clouds finally release.

And send down the much needed rain.

Finally my family and all of the other farmers can look to the future

With a fresh attitude and a soggy smile.

Because i think the rain is going to be here for quite a while.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can reach my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END.

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I Wish

03 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by stevenjohnno in stories

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

hope, love, money, wish

I wish that i was tall and handsome

But alas i am short and stubby.

People in the streets call me fat.

But y’know i am only slightly chubby.

I wish that i was more out going

Instead of being an over sensitive guy

And even though i know the answer

I still ask myself the question Why?

I wish that i was a higher power

Than i could cure all diseases.

Than the people that i love and cherish

Will no longer have to die.

My eyes would shine and sparkle with happiness

And no have to cry.

I wish that my mother and father stop arguing

And just talk to one another.

Because they did love each other once upon a time.

They live in the same house just not together.

The house is surrounded by very stormy weather

I wish that the earth was flat.

Than i could push all the bad people over the edge

I would listen to them screaming all the way down

I know it is wrong but i think i would enjoy that sound

I wish that i was a prize fighter

Fighting for the heavyweight title

Instead of being a world champion wimp

But i suppose it could be worse.

I could wake up as the pulp fiction gimp

I wish that people of different races and religion

Could all just be at peace.

But all they do is fight because of creed and different

coloured skin.

But we are all human beings of the same kin

I wish that i could see things in black and white

Because sometimes distorts the starkness

And though though i enjoy the light

I also welcome the darkness

I wish that my pen would stop moving around the paper

But it likes to form words

But sometimes the words aren’t quite right

And i need to take a rest

But still my pen continues to write

It can sometimes be a real pest

I wish that i was more popular

Than i could hang with all the cool people

I could bask in the limelight

And smell the decadence and wealth

But at the same time i like to live behind the curtain

of stealth.

I wish that there were no more wars

But mankind has been fighting each other

Ever since they started to live in caves

It is now 2017 so  people lay down your weapons

And start to fucking behave

I wish that i was famous

My face would grace the cover of all the magazines

I could be a celebrity for no particular reason

Just like that family of Kardashians

I could have my own television series

For way too many seasons

I wish that a had a pet

A cat or maybe a dog

Than i would have to be a responsible adult

If i owned a dog i would have to feed it take it for walks

and pay huge bills at the vet

So on second thought i don’t really want a pet

I wish that i was a man of mystery

But i am just your average joe

I have a normal job and live in an ordinary house

I mow the lawn and take out the trash

Just like everybody else

And they is the way that i like it

I wouldn’t change not even a bit

Except maybe …..

What do you wish for?

Go ahead and make a wish

You never know it might come true

But it more than likely wont

Just close your eyes and make a wish

But don’t say it out loud

Keep it to yourself

Wish

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can finally reach my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

THE END

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