small town – f-your blog

Just When I Though I’d Seen It All…..

The Other Day Started just like another with Me Battling Dogs to reach My Phone to shut off the Alarm. The Issue is the Dog’s damn well Know that when the Alarm goes off I get Up, and They get to Go Outside which also apparently includes giving Them Each a Treat. Needless to Say after a Moderate Struggle I managed to Shut the Alarm off and Let the Dogs Out (Yeah it was Me so Suck On That), and then Immediately headed into the Kitchen to Whip up some Coffee or Go Juice as it is Referred to Around these Parts.

To say I’m NOT a Morning Person is the Understatement of the fucking Millennium and I wish I was Joking. The Rule is NO ONE is to talk to Me for a Full Hour after I get Up because While I look Awake and with it I am More or Less running on Autopilot. Unfortunately for Me a Man born without a Patient Bone in His Entire fucking Body Our Heavily used Keurig Shit the Bed quite a While Ago so My Wife started Using a French Press. So taking Several Technological Steps backwards I put the Kettle on the Stove, and Turned the Knob to Ignite the Flame since We use Natural Gas for Cooking (and to Heat Our Tankless Hot Water Heater). The Pilot Light was Crackling Away like a fucking Downed Power Line, but Alas there was No Flame to Speak Of. Annoyed by this Inconvenience I started Turning the Other Knobs in an Attempt to get One out the Four to Ignite and Agin My Efforts were Thwarted.

My Anger Kicked in like a fucking Jet Engine Revving Up as the Idea of My Precious Coffee being Delayed even if for only a Few Minutes Enraged Me to No End. It was then that it Occurred to Me that I literally could Not Remember the Last Time I called the GAs Company to Refill Our Tank. Needless to Say I was Now under the Unacceptable assumption that We had fucked up by Not Monitoring the Level of Gas in he Tank , and Thus We must have simply Run Out of Gas. This would be a Royal Pain in the Ass Trust Me. The Gas Company is called Edisto and They are Nothing Short of a Bad Joke. In all Honesty it is BY FAR the Most Half Assed Operation I have Ever Witnessed and I’ve seen Plenty during the Course of My Life. A Quick Example of Edisto’s Ineptitude Ironically was When We Scheduled a Refill for Our Tank and When the Day Arrived the Edisto Employee Didn’t. The Good Old No Call No Show Routine. I called Edisto and Explained what happened and They Apologized and Said They’d Send someone out Right Away. Again No One Came without Any Notice Whatsoever. I called Edisto a Third fucking time, and the Third Time was the Charm as They Say, and at Last I got a Refill.

I ventured out onto the Front Porch and for Some Reason I still Don’t rightfully Understand Instead of going Left to Exit the Porch. You see I’d have to Walk from the Porch around to the side of the House where the Gas Tank is, Yet instead I cut Right because You can See (but Not Access) the Gas Tank from there. I leaned over the Railing and Turned My Head towards the Gas Tank I wasn’t at all Prepared for what I saw Next. The Gas Tank was Gone. The Four Cement Blocks it Sat On where still there along with the Disconnected Gas Line but the Gas Tank Itself had for all Intents and Purposes Up and fucking Disappeared.

It was in that Brief Moment I learned what the Saying “Does Not Compute” actually meant as My Brain was so Scrambled by Confusion I initially had No fucking Clue what to do or what I should do next. It’s was total Mindfucking Clusterfuck as My Eyes relayed to the Brain the Gas Tank was in Fact No Longer where it Should Be, and My Brain just Couldn’t grasp the Concept. In all Favor something like a Gas Tank (which is 6 Feet Long, Standing 4 Feet High, and made of Steel) is something You would Never even Consider a Possibility. It would be like walking Out of Your House in the Morning to Find Your 2 Car Garage Missing, or Perhaps Your Driveway suddenly Vanished without a Trace.

As I scanned the Yard still in a complete State of Shock and Awe I noticed there were a Distinct set of Truck Tire Tracks running across My Front Lawn. They Truck Tracks ran From the Middle of My Driveway across My Front Lawn and Ended by where the Gas Tank had Previously been for the last Four fucking Years. Undoubtedly I did experience a Moment of Panic mixed with Extreme Anxiety where I though the Gas Tank had been Stolen. I was Equally aware that the Idea that Someone Stole it made Abosolutely No fucking Sense Whatsoever. Beside being Big, Bulky, and Heavy as Hell the Metal that the Gas Tank is Constructed with has Zero Scrap Value like say Copper Wiring/Pipes. It was as Mr. Spock Would Say “Illogical”. Even though the Whole thing Defied Logic it was abundantly Clear that the ONLY Culprit could be the Edisto. Why the fuck They took My Gas Tank without Notice or Warning still baffled Me. I thought it was Safe to assumed it must have to do with Money even though We hadn’t bought Gas Forever so How could We owe Them a Goddamn Dime?!

Out of Sheer Bewilderment I called My Mother. I figured that having spent a Majority of Her Life Living in a Small Town in the South might have some Information on the Subject at Hand. When I spoke with Her She had No Clue Either What Possibly could be Going On and Said I should Call the Police. There was No Way in Hell I was going to (at least at this point or perhaps as a LAST Resort) call the Cops to Report My Gas Tank had Gone Missing. Calling the Police before Contacting the Gas Company seemed Foolish. I then Texted a Picture of the Vacant Area where the Gas Tank had been, and a brief Synopsis as to what had Occurred to My Wife who was at Work at the Time since it was Mid Morning. She Texted Me Back that Granted the Situation was Bizarre and that We Needed to call The Gas Company. Then being the Angel that She is asked if I wanted Her to call Them, and since I still felt Half Asleep, Denied My Glorious Cup of Coffee, and Befuddled Beyond Belief said Yes. I can say with One Hundred Percent Honesty that if I had called the Call would have broken down into a Serious Shit Show because in My Current State of Mind My Anger would Undoubtedly Rear its Ugly Head.

It only took about Ten Minutes Before My Wife Called Me with the Missing Pieces of the Missing Gas Tank Puzzle. It turned Out that it Never Occurred to Us that We didn’t Actually Own the Gas Tank even though it was There When We Bought the fucking House. Apparently the Gas Company Owns it and Charges Us a Five Dollar a Month Rental Fee which We were also Utterly Ignorant of. According to the Gas Company We hadn’t need a Refill since and I kid You Not Early 2019, BUT We hadn’t Paid the Rental Fee and They came and Repossessed Their Equipment. First of All We were Never informed of this Rental Charge (Neither was My Mother which Blew My Mind that Even She wasn’t Aware), but that Makes Sense considering the Gas Company is a Prime Example of How NOT to Run a fucking Business. I also riffled through the Past Years Bills, and Low and Behold there wasn’t a Single fucking Bill from the Gas Company pertaining to an Over Due Rental Fee Situation.

In the End My Wife Paid Off Our Bill in Full, and by some Odd Twist of Fate somehow was Talked into Buying a Hundred and Fifty Gallons of Natural Gas. I’ve never been a Science Whiz so I’m not even Sure How the fuck You Measure a Gas in Gallons Since the Gallon is a Unit of Measurement Used for Measuring Liquids. Also if We use so Little Natural Gas that We went Damn Near Two Years on a Full Tank means with a Hundred a Fifty Gallons of Natural Gas We have More Then We could Ever fucking Use for the Rest of Our Lives. The Amazingly Strange thing to Me is in Spite of a True Comedy of Errors the Gas Company still some how Managed to make a Sale. I also thought to Myself that if the Gas Company Guy had Knocked on the Door I could have Paid Him right Then and There and all of the Bullshit wouldn’t have been Necessary. Needless to Say the Gas Company wasted its Own Time, Gasoline, and Man Hours having Their Employee take the Tank without trying to collect Payment First Firsthand. All I know is I wasn’t the Only Person Pissed Off about How this Scenario was Handled because when the Gas Company Guy Returned to Return and Hook up the Tank He looked Madder than a Motherfucker. He really Should have Tried Knocking on the Door.

Thanks For Reading,

By Les Sober

Short Horror Film Friday: CARNIVORE!

Welcome to FYB’s Short Horror Film Friday featuring CARNIVORE Written and Directed by Ashton Herrild.

Plot Summery::

After being Finally Exonerated for the Wrongful Conviction of the Cannibalistic Murder of His Own Mother, Levi is Released from Prison. Now a Free Man Levi Returns to His Small Hometown, where His Belligerent Older half-brother, Wade, Drags Him to the Local Restaurant for a Hamburger. While Wade, Who’s Obviously Unconvinced of His Brother’s Innocence, Rabidly Devours a Burger, the Now Vegetarian Levi notices Something Off about the rest of the Restaurant’s Patrons. Unfortunately for Levi the Community Appears to Share Bo’s are Far from Convinced of Levi’s Innocence. Levi finds Solace in Reuniting with His Best Friend from High School Bo the Restaurant’s Current Hamburger Flipper. The Happy Reunion is Cut Short when Bo Confesses to Levi that He has been Busy Exacting His Own Dementedly Twisted Revenge upon Unwitting Towns People.

Enjoy.

Thanks For Watching,

Presented By Les Sober

Happy Holidays From MeatCanyon

Welcome and yes it isn’t even Close to the holiday’s, but when have we here at FYB ever played by the rules? We sure as shit aren’t going the cliche route and posting say a halloween video on halloween for example. So that said Today’s Post is HAPPY HOLIDAYS By (and Starring) MeatCanyon.

MeatCanyon’s real name is Hunter August Hancock better know by his online user name MeatCanyon. Hancock is an American Youtuber, animator, voice actor, comedian, writer, and director who makes parody animations of popular characters (say Sponge Bob for instance). Some viewers of MeatCanyon’s animations have been described them in just one single word “Horrifying”. A common on going gag in Hancock’s video’s is that something normal or mundane gets you killed or possible worse.

What I absolutely fucking love about this video is it makes me nostalgic as fuck let me tell you. Long before Youtube, Facebook Live, Tis Tok, Smartphones, Instagram Etc. all there was were video cameras. Growing up in a shit little town with nothing to do Les, Otto, and I we used to make absurdly stupid and nonsensical videos for our personal amusement (and to kill as much time and boredom) as we could. Thinking about it now I sincerely wish we had held on to some of those videos especially from our high school years for prosperity if nothing else.

Let the show begin!

So I’ll see you when I see you,

Justin Sane

The Tale of the Small Town MothMan Mural

When We moved from the Southern Swamp to the Southern Country one of the advantages of the move was there were several structures located out back behind our new home offices. There was a large one car garage which We unceremoniously designated for the usual trivial shit like Lawn Mowers, Various garden tools, Paint cans, and for a few months 2 large puppies (who now have their own Dog House complete with Heater and Air Conditioning)

The second structure was a run of the mill silver, 10 foot high, 20 foot long, 8 foot wide, sheet metal shed supported by an internal basic wooden frame. When We purchased the property the shithead previous owners failed to give us among many other things the keys to unlock said shed. We could see through the 4 small windows (2 per side) and do a very general assessment. From what we could see the only real issue other than getting a new lock was the plywood floor was rotten in 2 separate places and would need patching.

Once We got the shed lock changed and were able to enter the structure things looked as if the shed was worser for the wear than We had anticipated. Even if it needed more TLC than We thought it was still a viable option to be My Art Studio (Yes I paint and Draw in a variety of various mediums such as CharCoal or Oil Paints. I have recently decided that it is at this point in my life I will be pursuing Sculpting as creating a 3 dimensional project is going to be fucking awesome and intense.) The first thing I did was load it up with all my various art supplies (Canvases, Paints, Brushes, Assortment of Project Materials etc.), but the floor fix would take time, and I have NO PATIENCE, NON AT ALL. Its A Virtue I was born without and I’m totally fucking fine with that.

It took less than a day before I was wallowing in frustrated boredom and thought to myself that if I couldn’t currently use the shed I could still in the mean time decorate the outside. I drove to the local hardware store in the neighboring town and loaded up on Spray Paint big time. I had no idea what I was going to Paint on the side of the shed so first I selected which side I would do first. The rightsize of the shed made a small alleyway between it and the garage so space to work was limited. The same was true of the back of the shed even more so as our fence came in even closer proximity than the garaged and the sheds right wall. That left me with the choice of either the front or the left side of the shed to choose from. I chose the left side since it was bigger and had the best area in which to work.

I walked around the to the left side of the shed and stood there just looking at the shed without a thought in my mind waiting. It didn’t take long before an idea popped into my head MOTHMEN/MOTHMAN. Now before the first fool blurts out how much they loved the movie “The Mothman Prophecies” shut the fuck up. True it was a some what decent movie, but the Mothman is not solely limited to the Point Pleasant, West Virginia 1967 Silver Bridge Collapse that killed 46 people. The Mothman or Mothmen if you will have been seen in different areas before an impending disaster strikes such places as Chernobyl circling Reactor 4, before 9/11 in New York City, The I-35 Bridge Collapse in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and The Swine Flue Outbreak in Mexico in 2009 for instance.

Now I don’t claim to believe or not believe in such things as UFO’s, Ghost’s, Monsters or Cryptozoology but it all fun food for thought because who actually knows, and all I’m saying is I don’t know. What I do know is I utterly LOVE UNDERDOGS and to me the Mothman is just that, The Underdog of Cryptozoology. The main debate surrounding the Mothman is simply this is the Mothman coming and bringing death/doom/disaster with it OR is the Mothman a supernatural being/creature that comes to WARN US of immediate impending danger?! I hold with the latter of the two believes myself. It all added up to a quick decision that the mural I’d Spray Paint on the side of the shed would be The Mothman. (Yet myths, legends and lore interest me to no end ever fueling the fires of my undying curiosity.)

I should take a moment to add that the left side of the shed faced the street in a small neighborhood in a tiny town located along the Bible Belt. For this reason and this reason alone I wrote “Mothman” across its chest because while the Mothman was enough to turn many a head I didn’t want (nor need for that matter) for the locals to think the new guy was painting Devils or Demons on the side of his shed.

In a few days the Mothman was finished and I decided the silver background was fucking up my visual of the Mothman. I thought about background colors to use (My wife suggested blue and I should have listened, but I was thinking Navy Blue not say Sky Blue) and some how I chose Orange. On top of using Orange for the background I used a VERY DEEP AND INTENSE shade only to realize when it was all said and done the Orange background made it look more demonic than I’d liked or intended. I didn’t want to change the mural so Mothman with Orange background and all remained vigilantly watching the passerby on the road for months.

Unfortunately upon a proper inspection of the shed, the shed was found to be structurally unsound. The floor was completely shot and would need total replacement. The supporting wood infrastructure was compromised beyond belief. This was apparently due to the fact the previous owner had tried to wire up the shed with electricity themselves and fucked it up causing a fucking fire. The fire had burned a majority of the roof supports right through so if you tapped on them with a hammer they disintegrated.

I called my contractor and informed him that the shed was shot and I’d need his help tearing it down so as We could replace it. 3 or4 days later my contractor showed up with a small handful of workers who set off demolishing the rickety old shed. It only took them a few mere hours to reduce the standing structure into piles of scrap.

That evening I was talking on the phone to my Brother in the Great Northern New Yonder and he asked what was new. I told him about the failing inspection of the doomed shed and that it had been torn down and hauled off. I also told him that for a split second I thought about asking my contractor if the Mothman Mural could be salvaged, but in the end I just let it go. My Brother started laughing, not in an at me type manner, but a “He hasn’t figured it out yet” kind of way. Once he paused to catch his breath I asked him what he found so fucking amusing about the whole ordeal?! I had spent all the time and effort to paint the Mothman mural just to have it crushed and carted away in the end. He responded by saying that if I believed the Mothman was a Warning of impending danger, then painted one on the side of the shed, and then ultimately the shed met its demise then it followed my Mothman belief to a tee.

I couldn’t help laughing because he was dead right. A dilapidated shed, a Mothman Mural painted upon it, and 4 moths later the shed and the mural are gone having been destroyed in the dismantling process.

Thanks For Das Read,

Les Sober

The Bastard Brothers of BarFly

Back in the day when I was a real son-of-a-bitch I had the great displeasure of knowing The Bastard Brothers of Barfly for a few miserable months. First off BarFly barely constitutes a town out in “the boonies” of TCM. BarFly is such a tiny,tiny bankrupt micro town its not even a small dot on the map, and the people’s families/friends of BarFly residents received enthusiastic emails when the town got a 2nd traffic light for Christ’s sake. As you can imagine there isn’t diddly shit for the youth of BarFly to do but drink, fuck, vandalize, smoke weed, loiter and drive around the rural landscape of nothingness that is BarFly.

The Bastard Brothers are a classic example of the youth of BarFly, but I’m sure by now BarFly has developed or died providing a much more active environment. The older brother was named Bell-End who was the most transparently fake as fuck person I have ever run across in my chaotic travels.

This story unfolds in a time before smart phones and social media when Headbangers still existed in diminishing tribes but where a dying breed since Seattle ejaculated Grunge music and flannel in the face of America. Now Bell-End was a wannabe metalhead he had the long hair, played guitar, smoke’n drank, wore jeans with torn knees, and a lame denim vest (a jacket he had cut the sleeves off of, he missed the memo stating sleeve removing is for t-shirts not jackets the moron) covered with band patches (such as Metallica, Motorhead, Anthrax etc.) ultimately he was a shitty sheep in metal clothing. Not only that but he has a condescending, egotistical, snide “I’m gods gift to the fucking world” smarter than all attitude ,but in reality he was just a lame legend in his own minuscule mind.

His younger brother Dingus was not any better then his big brother accept he was a scumbag of a different shitty color. Dingus has short man’s insecurities all Napoleon complex and shit because the guy is 5 foot nothing. Dingus dropped out of high school in the 10th grade to hangout 24/7 attached at the hip with a scummy emo goth chick named Slutica When I say attached at the hip I mean it in the most extreme stereotypical manner, you NEVER saw one without the other being no more than 3 feet away like the pair of codependent cocksuckers they still are.

This particular cool fall evening I was loitering my balls off outside the one and only connivence store/ gas station in BarFly called the Bub’s Gas’n Grub in the entirely vacant lot somewhere around 8 pm or so. My buddy Slaytanic who had be relentlessly hounding the pay phone (yes they too still existed in limited numbers as cell phones evolved society) trying to find something, anything to do other than what we were currently up to. Slaytanic finally reached The Bastard Brothers on his mental rolodex and found out the two douche bags had a party ball of Schidt. The Brothers also claimed to have in their possession a bag of Northern Lights so if we needed something to do Slaytanic and I could stop by The Brother’s house since their parents were off visiting relatives. After a brief no brainer consultation Slaytanic and I were walking our way over to The Bastard Brother’s parents place.

Once Slaytanic and I arrived Bell-End announces that the two twats had decided to charge everyone $20 to party. This was beyond stupid as fuck for two key principals 1 being imposing a last minute party tax is like a bullshit cover charge, and we’re in BarFly not NYC. The 2nd principal being the Brother’s claim to marijuana fame (Yes again there wasn’t ANY legal weed medical or otherwise.) which was blatant bullshit. There was not a chance in all the religious hells the 2 twits could have gotten their grubby hands on Alaskan high grade shit. What The Brother’s had was what everybody had Mexican brick weed which is very low quality shit (especially by todays standards), and were simply lying to try to warrant their $20 turd tax. Not to mention this was the farthest thing from a party as it was the 2 Bastard Brothers, Slaytanic, myself and one other person who also was a good friend of mine named Space Dog.

It was not just the fact I was hanging at the home of 2 colossal cockbangers but it was the surprise last second tax that just royally chapped my ass, and thus kicked off my rampage of drunken revenge. I had had enough at this point of the to Bastard Brothers with their endless torrent of complete horse shit and even shittier personalities. To get the ball rolling I decided to pound beers like an alcoholic yeti until they went down like water. The entire group adjourned to the backyard at one point to smoke the alleged (and yet totally fake ass) Northern Lights aka dirty ditch weed. After smoking it was back to slamming beers like I was trying to keep Schidt beer from going into bankruptcy until the beer finally ran out. We had been hanging out in the Bastard Brother’s garage but without beer our rag tag group of miscreants headed inside to the basement, thats when I knew the shit was going to reach absolute apeshit levels.

In the interest of time and due to the fact I can’t remember the minor details I present you with a list of pertinent highlights.

I sat down on the crappy couch in the basement (which is where we ended up) propping my foot on the coffee table while holding onto an imaginary steering wheel. When Slaytanic questioned what I was doing exactly I respond by damn near yelling “I’m DRIVING my car MOTHERFUCKER you gonna get in or what?!”
I walked over to the out dated tv with an archaic VCR on top of it. Once I reached the VCR i flipped it upside down and proceeded to start unplugging cords by ripping them forcefully from their various attachments. Again when asked by Slaytanic what the hell I was up to I glared at him and demanded to know “How do you get into this thing?!!!”
In the drunk urinary tradition I wondered over to the water heater and promptly started pissing all over it as well as the floor.
I violently and voraciously vomited in the kitchen sink clogging the holy hell out of it with chunks of regurgitated fish sticks (I had at this time managed to escape from the confines of the basement and was freely walking around The Brother’s parent’s house.)
I was quickly escorted back to the basement where I stumbled into The Brother’s Mother’s at home pottery making shop. Turned out she was really into making clay pots and shit as a relaxing hobby. Now the mother had lined the walls with those cheap rickety metal shelves (not to mention the cheap selves where lined up around the room not just against the wall). They were the kind you see in industrial warehouses anyway she used them for storing her clay pots in various stages of completion . I decided I needed to sit down so I attempted to sit but ran into a serious issue. I tried to sit on one of the shelves but my ass and lower back got sort of stuck so I got trapped in a squatting position. When I stood up I incidentally shoved the self back (thanks Einstein ya dick) and the entire book shelve of clay pots came crashing down in a hailstorm of homemade havoc. Every one of those pots hit the cement basement floor and exploded sending clay fragments flying in every direction.
The next morning after crashing in the basement I went upstairs to make the bladder gladder when I ran into The Bastard Brother’s parents The Dullards. Now the Dullard’s had arrived home an hour or so before our encounter, and they were staring intently at me as if to ask “Who is this bum in our house?!” I hate people staring at me period not to mention I also was insanely hungover and no longer gave a shit about any of it. I turned my head as I passed them on the way to the crapper I stated in brutally blunt honesty “What me? Your sons are the real assholes here.” In all do favor I was made aware before hand that The Dullard’s hated my specific race so thats why I gave them a face full of shit, fuck’em their racists.

Around the crack of noon Slaytanic, Space Dog and I walked off into the sun rise never to see The Bastard Brothers or their racist parents The Dullards ever again, and I for one couldn’t be happier.