The Fruity Pebbles Nightmare
A few years ago, I had a job working for the Army Core of Engineers to assess storm damage after hurricane Katrina. I had a bad crush on one of the office girls named Maria, who made my heart palpitate so intensely, I almost passed out every time I talked to her.
One afternoon, they were telling jokes…really lame jokes. I pretended to laugh and Maria noticed my bad acting. She said, “Well now…why don’t you tell us a joke Bobby?”
I was petrified. The only jokes I know are sick or extremely dirty - I felt like Richard Pryor at his filthiest in a room full of nuns. I thought of the most unoffensive joke I know and asked, “How do you unload a truckload of dead babies?”
Seven disgusted faces stared at me. Maria asked apprehensively, “How?”
I busted out laughing, “With a pitchfork…hahaha!”
Maria burst into tears - one of the other women immediately hugged her and said, “You piece of shit…Maria’s baby was stabbed to death last month with a flounder gig by some sicko scumbag.”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…I never meant to cause any…”
Maria cut me off, “Leave…leave and never come back.”
I said, “Does this mean you won’t go out with me?”
“I’m married you jerkoff piece of human garbage…I HOPE YOU DIE! NOW GET OUT!”
I was fired a few minutes later for verbal assault and escorted off premises by armed guards.
Later that night, I was at home eating a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and reading through the want ads for a new job when the doorbell rang. I normally look through the peephole before opening, but was too tired from my horrible day. A strange man stood in the doorway. A grubby beard hung from his morbidly huge steroid altered jawbone. He smiled and said, “Do you know who I am?”
The guy was a Goliath, probably weighing 300 pounds - I said, “Let me guess…growth hormone Henry, the human mistake?”
“I’m Maria’s husband you stupid punk!”
He exploded on me like a rabid dog - slamming me onto the concrete face first - punch after punch violently stomping into the back of my head. I screamed, “Get off me you Neanderthal freak.”
I tried to get to my pocket knife but couldn’t budge. He rolled me over and pinned my arms. He leaned down face to face - his putrid breath reeked of rotted garlic and cigarette smoke. He leaned closer, “You upset my wife and I’m going to kill you.”
I noticed three fleshy nodules protruding from his bottom lip - glistening cauliflower like growths - strings of mucous draping downward. He suckled the juice from the wretched sores and said, “I’ve got venereal warts growing in my mouth - they’re extremely infectious.”
I screamed, “Help…somebody help me.”
He gurgled up his words, “Give me a kiss you little bitch…”
The infected wart fluids drizzled into my mouth and eyes, “HELP! PLEASE GOD…SOMEBODY HELP ME!”
I vomited multi-colored streams of thickened fruity pebbles and wart drippings all over both of us - at the very least, my love life was ruined - visions of sickening warts all over my body and face slithering through my mind. He managed to tie my hands behind my back as I fell into a catatonic stupor.
I heard a familiar female voice, “Drag him inside honey, we don’t want the neighbors seeing.”
I could barely open my eyes from the disease infected mucous drying in my eyelashes. It was Maria standing there, wearing a transparent body suit. It looked like clear vinyl shrink wrap melted onto her skin. Across her back was an astonishing tattoo - a field of dead babies being harvested by the grim reaper with Satan’s pitchfork - lobbing the infant carcasses into a lake of flesh blistering fire. She turned around revealing her incredible breasts - a rusted fish hook through her right nipple - a food crusted dinner fork through her left - probably for decor. She straddled me wildly, her milk-secreting, glandular organs dangling over my face. She giggled while her breast hook scratched my upper lip - I could taste the metallic flavor of my own blood.
“You still want a date with me Bobby?”
Her husband jumped up and down in a frenetic rage of explosive hatred, “Kill him baby! Kill that stupid motherfucker!”
She pulled the fork from her erect nipple and stabbed it into my left eye socket - aqueous and vitreous humor fluid squirted forth - raining back down onto my face. “Tell me another joke Bobby…let’s have a bowl of fruity pebbles together!”
I awakened in a pool of sweat realizing all of this was nothing more than a nightmare. My left eyeball had come out of it’s socket during the dream and was dried onto my pillow - fabric embedded into the tissue. I touched the yellowish optical nerve with my finger and a hang nail got stuck in it - soul searing pain erupted down my spine. I will never bite my nails again. I actually had to drive myself to the hospital with a distended eye, dried onto a dirty pillow case…how embarrassing is that? It only took them a few minutes to remove the pillow case and put my eye back in it’s natural sheath. This may sound like fiction, but it isn’t. Let me explain:
My Affliction
I suffer from bilateral facial weakness, a condition that causes me to sleep with my eyes open. The doctors thought I might have facioscapulohumeral muscular dystrophy, but it was not that serious. It is common for my eyes to pop out, sometimes in public…without warning.
One time, I fell asleep on the beach after drinking beer all day. I slept for 7 hours with my eyes wide open. When I woke up, my eyes were already open, so I didn’t have to expend precious energy reopening them - the only good thing about my entire experience.
I couldn’t see and my dehydrated lachrymal ducts were roasted dry. Hideous blood scabs encrusted my eye’s surface, preventing my lids from closing. I was completely blind and staggering about, helpless and terrified. I couldn’t scream as my throat was parched bone dry. I continually choked up sand which had blown into my mouth while sleeping. I stumbled onto the highway and was hit by a truck. I was hospitalized for three weeks and couldn’t see for almost a month. I’m used to these situations, it’s completely normal for me.
For some reason, my condition causes me to have the most riveting nightmares. I usually enjoy them. Well, I enjoy waking up part, realizing they aren’t real. I hope you enjoyed this! I think I’ll drive out to my ex-employer and find Maria, maybe she’s divorced by now.
*The eye pictures are from Wikipedia the eye
*I had to add profanity to this story for proper effect, I hope you found it offensive.
*I found out last week that Maria was stomp kicked in the face by a Clydesdale horse while stumbling drunk at a Budweiser parade in St. Louis. She is blind and paralyzed…bless her heart.
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27 Responses to “The Fruity Pebbles Nightmare”
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Wow! Very vivid. Sorry I cant add more but I’m pretty much speechless from the clarity with which you have written such things. Wow! If nothing else great writing skills. I mean it. Get well soon??
@P.Reich: Thanks so much! Don’t worry, I don’t need to get well. Maybe I do need to get well…mentally LOL
Bobby, I laughed so hard, my dman eye fell out.
You’ll pay for this!!!!!!!!!
I was just sharing your blog with my Ryze friends and clicked over to test the link. Whoo boy, that was your funniest horror story, yet.
Cheers,
Mitch
Thanks Mitch…you made my day!!!
If you don’t write fictional books; you should. You could probably make some serious money. It was so vivid and seemed so real for a moment. You may want to leave out the profanity; there are just too many other words you can use which would still capture the attention you are looking for.
Lucetry
This is wonderfully written piece of literature, I really enjoyed this story. You are a great writer Bobby. You need to publish the book and become a famous writer. I really mean it.
@SWL: Thanks! I disagree about the profanity. When you sterilize any form of literature, you destroy it’s value. Sure there are other words besides curse words, but they inaccurately paint a charachter. A writer who neuters their own words so as to not offend…is not a writer.
@J.C.: Thanks so much! This is just a fun little story meant to shock and scare. If Quentin Tarantino could write blog articles, they would be like this. His films are some of my favorites.
Oh boy! Extremely descriptive Bobby, I read the whole thing, gory or not he he! Are u still working on ur novel? You seem to be on a roll with this one, let some of that creativity flow into ur book!
Thanks Marzie! I know it’s a bit gross and offensive, but it’s really meant to be funny. My books are coming along, but I’m from done. Thanks for reading
Dear God you had me horrified!
When I read the part where, Maria came walking up in a transparent body suit, I thought, ‘This can’t be real…’
Although I have to ask, did you really get hit by a truck?
Considering your affliction…
If we are reincarnated, I wonder what you did, in a past life!?!
Good Luck writing,
-Michael McClurg
Oh wow! Bravo, good sir! That was a great story. Best I’ve heard in long time. Kicked in the face by a Clydesdale?? WOW!
Yikes, what a horrible affliction that would be - having your eyes just randomly pop out and dry up. That IS how I feel though, when I’m up too late at night and my contact lenses dry out. Well, it’s how I think it would feel anyway.
Awesome story, Bobby. I loved it - the details of the disgusting growths, the piercings, your regurgitated Fruity Pebbles, etc. - masterful!
Waaah you are such a great writer Bobby! I don’t think I will be able to write as well as you!!! congrats!!
@Michael: Thanks! No, I never got hit by a truck - this entire story is fiction. I just wanted an extremely unique ending. The ending of any story has to be the best part.
@SD: Thanks so much…I’m glad you liked it!
@Teeni: Awww Thanks Teeni! I used to think that I need to write less graphic material, but it’s not possible for me. This may sound weird, but I laughed while writing this!
@Trinity: Thanks!!! I hope the story didn’t offend you too much. It was a lot of fun to write!
One can never be sure how much of what you’re writing is complete fiction or if you’re throwing in some truth here and there. And I think that’s the way you like it!
Hey Bobby, you do that, too?
I am always amused at my writing. My fondest wish is for readers to have as much fun reading my stuff as I have writing it!
I swear, I can’t see how you could NOT howl with laughter as you completed each diabolical sentence.
Cheers,
Mitch
@Dan: I envision the story as if it is truth beforehand and write it as if I’m telling a true story. I run into trouble though - many times when I actually write a true story, people think it’s fiction. My post “Interview with a blind homeless man” was 100% true, but many of the stumble reviews believed it was all lies!
@Mitch: If this made you laugh, you are just as twisted as I am!!!!
To borrow a cliche, they broke the mold when they created you, Fred Revellian
Yeah, I can picture you laughing while writing it. You know, the kind of Muhahaha type of laugh.
@Debbie: Haha! Actually, no mold was used - I was freehanded
@Teeni: No…it was an all American, wholesome Beaver Cleaver laugh!
Ha ha! At first I thought this was real, but as it gradually got more and more ridiculous, I’m like, “This is definitely a story!” I’m not too familiar with this blog yet, although it appears you do a lot of horror fiction. I gotta tell you, when the husband arrived and started with the beating, that was pretty gruesome.
Thanks Justin! That’s how a good beating should be…gruesome
What a story. Very well written. A little on the gross side though. Keep up the good work. I’ll definitely be checking back in to see what you do next.
For a few seconds, I thought maybe you had a nightmare from eating a tainted bowl of Fruity Pebbles.
Good stuff, if not a bit gross.
you write well…piece of advice: copyright this, compile , publish then sell…great read, will have space in my bookshelf…
p.s.
too bad for maria…
I started thinking it was real and then went to “is this real” to “this can’t be real”. Great story