Halibut, a boy of twelve, stood tall and stern on a hilltop at midnight, his face covered in plaster from the day's plaster antics. You see, Halibut was a creative boy, always creating things, and on this particular day, he had decided to create a phat phile using his paws and his feces. This resulted in loads and loads of boiling, sobbing plaster, which his friends smeared across his face sternly. Let me tell you, Halibut and his friends were a bunch of slick bastards. They'd cruise the streets of Chicago at odd hours and slap bitches 'n' hoes till their hands bled massive pools of blood, and then they'd go straight home and try to kill each other with only their bare hands. It was fun, they said. Halibut was a crook and a killa. He'd shove his face in yo' face, and you'd sure as hell better back the fuck off, or Halibut would kick yo' ass with his face. It was quite the move, really.
One Sunday afternoon, Halibut built a piano out of molten steel and auto parts, and played it loudly on his favorite hilltop at midnight, looking out over the city lights. He loved to play the piano, because playing and building pianos involved creation, and creation was his BAG O' NUTS. Halibut's mother was a hardcore carpenter who sold most of her children for extra cash, but kept Halibut around for labor and such.
"Build me a piano!" she would yell. "Build it till ya DROP, bitch!"
"Mom," Halibut would reply, "you're so harsh sometimes. I wish you wouldn't--"
"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH BITCH!!!!!!!!!"
Halibut's mother slapped him around a lot, but since she was only three feet tall and Halibut was twelve feet tall, this did not cause anyone any harm. Let's kick a man in the foot. Buy me a beverage. You know, I've always thought about authors and how they write. They kick it up a notch. Halibut shoves his face into his mother's face and says, "FUCK THIS."
Halibut leaves home, shows the world new things, like radar and flight.
"Look," he mutters under his breath, "here's some radar and flight..."
Halibut chews the fat with his four brothers. They discuss their labor and creation issues. They purchase their mother a beverage, and they collectively kick one man in the foot. YES. So glad that happened. After this, a nice-looking dog approached the group and ripped off all of their limbs, which he assembled into a makeshift fort and pretended to broadcast secret information to the government with his invisible skills and motives.
Halibut died that night, along with his four brothers. A voice was heard throughout the city, in each brightly lit home across the maze of city lights. It was the sound of Halibut's mother giving birth to five new children. And it was a LOUD sound.
"RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH BITCH!!!!!!!"
