Obvious Secret, One Screwed up Hick's Garden
By QOTSAfreak
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, the story is Stephen King's. Note: Text in Italics means that they're Mort's thoughts. Mort2 is Mort's conscience.
(Mort is in his car, deciding whether to confront his unfaithful wife)
Mort- *waves hands wildly* Oh my gosh Oh my gosh Oh my gosh!!! What do I do? Should I do this?!
Mort2- I don't care what you do you loony! AS LONG AS YOU MAKE SURE YOU LOOK GOOD! DON'T drag me down with YOU!
Mort- Yes? No? Yes? No? Yes? N-
Mort2- YOU DUMBASS! Flip a coin!
Mort- Oh, right. Would it matter if it's a Canadian coin?
Mort2- OF ALL THE PSYCHOS, I HAD TO END UP WITH THIS ONE!...
Mort- Shut up you! I thought you were supposed to be on MY SIDE! *bangs head on wheel* I'll SHOW YOU!
Mort2- MORON! STOP BEFORE YOU RUIN OUR FACE!
Mort- *gasp*
Mort2- Now flip the god damn coin!
Mort- Ok. Tails is yes. *flips coin* Dammit... tails. Oh well, *checks view- mirror* at least I look good.
(Mort puts his car in reverse and starts driving backwards towards the motel)
Mort- *Glances at his image in the mirror again and his eyes widen* HOLY SHIZNIT! A ZIT?! NOOOOO!!! WHY GOD?! WHY?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO PEOPLE MAGAZINE'S SEXIEST MAN 2003?! *Howls*
(Since Mort's not paying attention to where he's going, he backs up too far, crashing into the motel registration center, killing the desk clerk)
Mort2- ... O_o Nice one dumbass!
Mort- *drawn out gasp, long silence*... Eh, I don't care. At least he can't stop me now...
(~The Morts don't hear this~ John Shooter- You're coming along nicely, young grasshopper...)
(Mort barges into a random room and you hear girl screams) Mort- Whoops! Terribly sorry ladies!!! Whoa, wait... Orlando? *sees Orlando Bloom tied up on a bed all gagged up and surrounded by fangirls*
Orlando- HEERRRPPP!!! HERRP ME!!! REEEEZZZZ!
Mort- Sorry, gotta go. I have to barge in my wife's boyfriend's room to confront them and scream in their faces like a tempered, retarded Rhessus monkey and skip to the next few months. *Leaves*
Orlando- *sobs* ROOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! FRUCCCKKK!!!
Fangirl- Well, that was random... *continues to ravage Orlando*
(Mort barges into the right room)
Mort- *screams and jumps around like a tempered, retarded Rhessus monkey* What THE FUCK are you doing with MY WIFE? WHY?! AMY?! I'm so much sexier than that ugly-ass FAG!
Amy- *hastily puts wedding ring back on* What are you talking about Mort? I did not have sexual relations with that man... I... I just strip for him...
Ted- Yea man, she's hot dude...
Mort- O_o... um... WHAT A SMART THING TO SAY TO THE HUSBAND OF THE LADY YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH THAT IS HALF PSYCHOTIC AND HAS A FRIGGIN' GUN!!! MORON!
Ted- Oh...
Mort- That's right bow to the all powerful SQUIRTY GUN! *laughs maniacally*
~Months later, possibly a year~
(Mort's crappy cabin by the lake)
Mort- *asleep*
Maid- Dumdeedumdumdum...Since I'm so underpaid, I will STEAL THIS... *shifts eyes and steals a spatula, putting it under her shirt* MUAHAHAHAHAAAAA!
Mort- *wakes up suddenly* Something fishy's going on... the voices in my head told me... *walks to kitchen to get a Jack Daniels and sees the maid inching towards the door* What are you doing? What's that spatula-looking shape on your chest?
Maid- *sweats bullets* Uh... umm... nuh-nothing s-si-sir... and... I uh... have cancer... YEAH! THAT'S IT! I mean, I have breast cancer... in the shape of a spatula...
Mort- *looks at the maid suspiciously* hmmm.... ^_^ OK! (Yes! SHE'S GONNA DIE!!!!)
Maid- *hurries out the door* HAH! Sucker! *rubs spatula against her cheek* ME PRECCIOOUUUSSSSSSS!!! Mort- *opens fridge* CRAP! NO JACK DANIELS! Oh well, I guess Mountain Dew will do... *opens can trips over Chico and accidentally spills it all over his pants* CRAP!
(Someone knocks at the door)
Mort- SHIT! WAIT A SEC! You stupid, inopportune moron.
(Knocking becomes more insistant)
Mort- OK ALL RIGHT ALREADY!!! *opens door to reveal... AGENT SMITH!!!*
Smith- Mr. Anderson... Are you surprised to see me?
Mort- WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? *slams door on Agent Smith's face* Stupid solicitors... Damn salesmen... FUCKIN' bible sellers...
(Knocking comes back)
Mort- *opens door and sees a redneck making out with a cow. He screams and shuts the door*
(Knocking continues)
Mort- *opens the door and sees the redneck making out with the maid and screams EVEN LOUDER*
Redneck- Oh... *shoves maid into the bushes* Anyways, Mister Rainey I presume... the name's Shooter, John Shooter and I got a bone to pick with you. *looks at the stain on Mort's pants* Huh... that's odd... they usually don't piss their pants from fear of me until at least 2 days... Do you have bladder problems Mister Rainey? I have an aunt with the same sitiation... pisses all over the place...
Mort- *turns red* NO! I DO NOT HAVE BLAD-
Shooter- Admitting you have a problem is halfway there to acceptance...
Mort- Whatever, you said you have a bone to pick with me?
Shooter- You went and stole MY story with the three bears!
Mort- What the... I never wrote a story with three bears.
Shooter- Oh, *flips through papers* Oh, my mistake, that's my next victim... YOU STOLE MY STORY, SECRET WINDOW AND CHANGED THE ENDING!
Mort- DID NOT! I STOLE IT FROM CRAPPYPAPPERS.COM FROM A SECOND GRADER! So HAH!
Shooter- You DID TOO steal it from me! *hands Mort his story* See?
Mort- Did not. *throws story back at Shooter*
Shooter- DID TOO!
Mort- DID NOT! *bitch slaps Shooter*
Shooter- You'll regret doing that... *bitch slaps Mort*
(CATFIGHT!!! Hair flys)
(Shooter emerges victorious)
Shooter- Wait, where's my hat?!
Mort- Down my pants you FUCKMOOK!
Shooter- You don't think I'd go there Mister Rainey? I was raised on a farm you know...
Mort- *pales and quickly hands Shooter the hat*
Shooter- *grimaces and puts the hat back on* Thank you Mister Rainey. I'll be bidding you "good bye" for now *tips hat*. I'll be seein' you real soon.
Mort- *slams door shut and waits a bit until Shooter's gone and opens the door up again. He sees that Shooter left the story behind, under a rock* Stupid hick *takes story inside and throws it in the trash*
(The story comes back and slaps Mort in the face and falls on the ground.)
Mort- What the fuck? *Looks in the trash fearfully* Oh, that's right... I threw away my spring collection... *looks on the ground for the story, but doesn't see it* what the... I swore it was by my foot just a minute ago... *looks around* huh... *looks back at the trashcan and sees the story lying there as if it never moved* ok... *waits for the story to move* THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT!
Mort2- HAH HAH!!! YOU'RE GOING CRAZY! YOU'RE GOING CRAZY! YOU'RE GOING CRAZY! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!
Mort- Meh... *suddenly goes unconscious and falls to the ground* me go sleep now... *snore, drool*
~To be Continued... DUN DUN DUN!!!!~
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, the story is Stephen King's. Note: Text in Italics means that they're Mort's thoughts. Mort2 is Mort's conscience.
(Mort is in his car, deciding whether to confront his unfaithful wife)
Mort- *waves hands wildly* Oh my gosh Oh my gosh Oh my gosh!!! What do I do? Should I do this?!
Mort2- I don't care what you do you loony! AS LONG AS YOU MAKE SURE YOU LOOK GOOD! DON'T drag me down with YOU!
Mort- Yes? No? Yes? No? Yes? N-
Mort2- YOU DUMBASS! Flip a coin!
Mort- Oh, right. Would it matter if it's a Canadian coin?
Mort2- OF ALL THE PSYCHOS, I HAD TO END UP WITH THIS ONE!...
Mort- Shut up you! I thought you were supposed to be on MY SIDE! *bangs head on wheel* I'll SHOW YOU!
Mort2- MORON! STOP BEFORE YOU RUIN OUR FACE!
Mort- *gasp*
Mort2- Now flip the god damn coin!
Mort- Ok. Tails is yes. *flips coin* Dammit... tails. Oh well, *checks view- mirror* at least I look good.
(Mort puts his car in reverse and starts driving backwards towards the motel)
Mort- *Glances at his image in the mirror again and his eyes widen* HOLY SHIZNIT! A ZIT?! NOOOOO!!! WHY GOD?! WHY?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO PEOPLE MAGAZINE'S SEXIEST MAN 2003?! *Howls*
(Since Mort's not paying attention to where he's going, he backs up too far, crashing into the motel registration center, killing the desk clerk)
Mort2- ... O_o Nice one dumbass!
Mort- *drawn out gasp, long silence*... Eh, I don't care. At least he can't stop me now...
(~The Morts don't hear this~ John Shooter- You're coming along nicely, young grasshopper...)
(Mort barges into a random room and you hear girl screams) Mort- Whoops! Terribly sorry ladies!!! Whoa, wait... Orlando? *sees Orlando Bloom tied up on a bed all gagged up and surrounded by fangirls*
Orlando- HEERRRPPP!!! HERRP ME!!! REEEEZZZZ!
Mort- Sorry, gotta go. I have to barge in my wife's boyfriend's room to confront them and scream in their faces like a tempered, retarded Rhessus monkey and skip to the next few months. *Leaves*
Orlando- *sobs* ROOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! FRUCCCKKK!!!
Fangirl- Well, that was random... *continues to ravage Orlando*
(Mort barges into the right room)
Mort- *screams and jumps around like a tempered, retarded Rhessus monkey* What THE FUCK are you doing with MY WIFE? WHY?! AMY?! I'm so much sexier than that ugly-ass FAG!
Amy- *hastily puts wedding ring back on* What are you talking about Mort? I did not have sexual relations with that man... I... I just strip for him...
Ted- Yea man, she's hot dude...
Mort- O_o... um... WHAT A SMART THING TO SAY TO THE HUSBAND OF THE LADY YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH THAT IS HALF PSYCHOTIC AND HAS A FRIGGIN' GUN!!! MORON!
Ted- Oh...
Mort- That's right bow to the all powerful SQUIRTY GUN! *laughs maniacally*
~Months later, possibly a year~
(Mort's crappy cabin by the lake)
Mort- *asleep*
Maid- Dumdeedumdumdum...Since I'm so underpaid, I will STEAL THIS... *shifts eyes and steals a spatula, putting it under her shirt* MUAHAHAHAHAAAAA!
Mort- *wakes up suddenly* Something fishy's going on... the voices in my head told me... *walks to kitchen to get a Jack Daniels and sees the maid inching towards the door* What are you doing? What's that spatula-looking shape on your chest?
Maid- *sweats bullets* Uh... umm... nuh-nothing s-si-sir... and... I uh... have cancer... YEAH! THAT'S IT! I mean, I have breast cancer... in the shape of a spatula...
Mort- *looks at the maid suspiciously* hmmm.... ^_^ OK! (Yes! SHE'S GONNA DIE!!!!)
Maid- *hurries out the door* HAH! Sucker! *rubs spatula against her cheek* ME PRECCIOOUUUSSSSSSS!!! Mort- *opens fridge* CRAP! NO JACK DANIELS! Oh well, I guess Mountain Dew will do... *opens can trips over Chico and accidentally spills it all over his pants* CRAP!
(Someone knocks at the door)
Mort- SHIT! WAIT A SEC! You stupid, inopportune moron.
(Knocking becomes more insistant)
Mort- OK ALL RIGHT ALREADY!!! *opens door to reveal... AGENT SMITH!!!*
Smith- Mr. Anderson... Are you surprised to see me?
Mort- WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? *slams door on Agent Smith's face* Stupid solicitors... Damn salesmen... FUCKIN' bible sellers...
(Knocking comes back)
Mort- *opens door and sees a redneck making out with a cow. He screams and shuts the door*
(Knocking continues)
Mort- *opens the door and sees the redneck making out with the maid and screams EVEN LOUDER*
Redneck- Oh... *shoves maid into the bushes* Anyways, Mister Rainey I presume... the name's Shooter, John Shooter and I got a bone to pick with you. *looks at the stain on Mort's pants* Huh... that's odd... they usually don't piss their pants from fear of me until at least 2 days... Do you have bladder problems Mister Rainey? I have an aunt with the same sitiation... pisses all over the place...
Mort- *turns red* NO! I DO NOT HAVE BLAD-
Shooter- Admitting you have a problem is halfway there to acceptance...
Mort- Whatever, you said you have a bone to pick with me?
Shooter- You went and stole MY story with the three bears!
Mort- What the... I never wrote a story with three bears.
Shooter- Oh, *flips through papers* Oh, my mistake, that's my next victim... YOU STOLE MY STORY, SECRET WINDOW AND CHANGED THE ENDING!
Mort- DID NOT! I STOLE IT FROM CRAPPYPAPPERS.COM FROM A SECOND GRADER! So HAH!
Shooter- You DID TOO steal it from me! *hands Mort his story* See?
Mort- Did not. *throws story back at Shooter*
Shooter- DID TOO!
Mort- DID NOT! *bitch slaps Shooter*
Shooter- You'll regret doing that... *bitch slaps Mort*
(CATFIGHT!!! Hair flys)
(Shooter emerges victorious)
Shooter- Wait, where's my hat?!
Mort- Down my pants you FUCKMOOK!
Shooter- You don't think I'd go there Mister Rainey? I was raised on a farm you know...
Mort- *pales and quickly hands Shooter the hat*
Shooter- *grimaces and puts the hat back on* Thank you Mister Rainey. I'll be bidding you "good bye" for now *tips hat*. I'll be seein' you real soon.
Mort- *slams door shut and waits a bit until Shooter's gone and opens the door up again. He sees that Shooter left the story behind, under a rock* Stupid hick *takes story inside and throws it in the trash*
(The story comes back and slaps Mort in the face and falls on the ground.)
Mort- What the fuck? *Looks in the trash fearfully* Oh, that's right... I threw away my spring collection... *looks on the ground for the story, but doesn't see it* what the... I swore it was by my foot just a minute ago... *looks around* huh... *looks back at the trashcan and sees the story lying there as if it never moved* ok... *waits for the story to move* THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT!
Mort2- HAH HAH!!! YOU'RE GOING CRAZY! YOU'RE GOING CRAZY! YOU'RE GOING CRAZY! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!
Mort- Meh... *suddenly goes unconscious and falls to the ground* me go sleep now... *snore, drool*
~To be Continued... DUN DUN DUN!!!!~