fic: Little Red Hoodie Sam
So, you guys remember how I'm so busy and tired and whatnot? And like, I complain a lot about how I'm sad and pathetic? Well, guess what? I FOUND TIME TO WRITE FIC.
Here's a half hour's worth of writing, because my body is saying AGH YOU SHOULD BE AT WORK RIGHT NOW JESUS CHRIST instead of sleeping in like a normal body that's just worked a 63.5 hour week.
So here's some fic, inspired by the fairytale challenge that's going on over at sgaflashfic.
Title: Little Red Hoodie Sam
Rating: R.
Word Count: 1,135
Summary, etc: Um, cracked version of Little Red Riding Hood. Also wincest, big surprise. No spoilers or anything. Unbeta'd.
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl - Dean, shut the fuck up, I mean it - there was a floppy-haired dude named Sam, who lived with his dad in the woods. He had a really gay red hoodie that he’d bought at some stupid emo store, and he often cried himself to sleep.
Dean, seriously, if I wasn’t so sick I’d beat the shit out of you.
Anyway, one day Little Red Hoodie Sam woke up with sore red eyes from all the crying and went to see his dad. “Hey dad,” he said, “I’m like, totally full of unexpressed emotion and I’ve been cutting my arms to like, let that emotion out. Also I’ve been listening to Sum 41.” Oh my god. Yeah, dude, that’s what Hoodie Sam’s dad said, too.
“Oh my god,” he said, “I can’t believe you suck so much. Here, take this basket of rock salt and lighter fluid over to your grandma. She’s having a problem with some ghosts.”
Hoodie Sam pouted and was depressed and thought about cutting himself, but didn’t because contrary to what he said, he did enjoy busting up a dumbass ghost every now and again.
Whoa, dude, you used ‘contrary’ in the right context. Good job.
Okay, anyway, the narrator isn’t completely retarded, contrary to popular belief, and Hoodie Sam also randomly fell into a pit of zombies and was eaten alive and that’s the end of that.
Aw, come on. Did I hurt your feelings? Do you want to talk about it? Dean? Look at me, Dean. You have to look into my eyes and tell me your feelings. OR, you could finish the story.
Jesus. Okay, okay. Hoodie Sam didn’t actually fall into a pit of zombies. He just picked up the basket of goodies - it’s rock salt and lighter fluid - yeah, hello, goodies. He takes the goodies and skips off into the woods, humming a funeral dirge under his breath. Because that’s what emo kids do.
Anyway, as he’s skipping through the woods, he gets all thirsty and stuff. And so he skips off the trail and finds this stream or something. And then he’s like, “Oh yeah, I’m so thirsty, yeah,” and he goes to get a drink but then water gets all on his shirt and he’s like, “Oh no, guess I’ll just take this shirt right off,” and he does. And he’s got these muscles and stuff, which are totally not even close to being as big as the narrator’s but they’re not bad. And maybe the narrator wants to make out with Little Red Hoodie Sam a little, and also bust a nut on his face.
Um. Yeah. That would be not so bad. Like, at all. Except that I’m sick.
We can find a way around that.
No, yeah, we totally could. But could you hand me the garbage can?
Why, what’s- AW GROSS. Ew, dude, was that a salad? Not anymore, huh?
Ugh.
Okay, so anyway. Ah, that’s so sick. I can’t believe I just watched that. Right, Hoodie Sam very quickly put his shirt back on, because the narrator will now never be able to think about Hoodie Sam without thinking about barfing and random green things - Dean, shut up - and picked up his goodies and skipped away.
And as he’s going along, Hoodie Sam hears a rustling in the bushes. So he peeks in and sees a bigass wolf. And the wolf’s like, “What’s up? What’s that basket of stuff?”
And Hoodie Sam says, “It’s some lighter fluid and stuff for my grandma. She’s got a problem with ghosts.”
“Oh yeah?” said the wolf, looking all shifty and whatever. Also, this was a talking animal, so between that and the shiftiness Hoodie Sam should’ve picked up on the fact that hey, this is not a good position to be in. But he didn’t, because he’s very trusting and naïve.
Hey, I pick up on lots of dangerous situation when all you’re thinking of is your slutty dick.
Excuse me, who’s telling the story here? Me, that’s who. Now shut it.
So Hoodie Sam’s telling the wolf his life story, and getting ready to give the wolf a big hug because he believes in being open with emotions and likes to hug - Oh, and you don’t? You try to sneak them in! Don’t think I don’t notice - and meanwhile, the wolf is thinking of the best way to eat Hoodie Sam. Probably barbequed.
Suddenly, the wolf lunges! And Hoodie Sam’s like, OH NO! But the wolf grabs him by the throat and starts to choke him, and Hoodie Sam’s going, URK URK URK BLEARG I’M BEING CHOKED HELP ME. And then this incredibly handsome lumberjack slash kickass hunter named Dean explodes out of the woods and chops the head off the wolf and sets it on fire with his stunning good looks.
Hoodie Sam is so impressed with the hunter’s amazing awesomeness that he falls to his knees and give the hunter an amazing blowjob. And the hunter, by the way, has a giant horse dong. Stop laughing, Sam, you’re ruining the cocksucking.
Sorry. It’s just that that entire last part with full of such bullshit.
You know what? Just because your dick is the size of King Kong’s, it doesn’t mean mine’s any less awesome, okay? I mean, it’s a great size for a dick. And it doesn’t stretch away from my body like it’s too heavy and giant to even exist, it’s just happy bobbing around near my stomach. It’s not scary, is what I’m saying. And yeah, maybe it doesn’t make your mouth water or whatever, but it’s JUST. FINE.
Dean, your cock makes my mouth water.
Stop it. You’re just being nice. I don’t need your giant-dick pity.
No, it does. And if I wasn’t so sick, I’d show you that I think your cock is very nice. Small, obviously, but y’know, nice.
I hate you so much right now. You’re lucky you’re sick. Otherwise I’d kill you.
I’d just get a boner and stab you with it. NO, Dean, in the heart. Don’t be such a pig. GET YOUR ASS OFF MY FACE.
So anyway, I’m pretty sure Hoodie Sam had just finished giving the hunter a blowjob. And then the hunter let Hoodie Sam fuck him, as a favour by the way, not because that’s what he prefers. And Hoodie Sam was properly grateful for the opportunity, and didn’t just take it like it’s his right.
And then the two of them went over to the granny’s house and salted and burned the ghost, and then she made them hamburgers and BLTs and pie.
And they all lived happily ever after, with lots of fucking and pie. The end.
That was beautiful, thank you.
You owe me a blowjob.