Unlikely Friends: Volume One

Chapter Twelve

"Are we there yet?"

Potato's tone had grown steadily more impatient each time the question passed his now parched lips. Turtles glared back at him from BranChan's shoulder, where he sat perched in the unrelenting sun. He wished they'd reach their destination as well, or at the very least escape the sorching desert they had been endlessly dragging themselves through. "Are you going to stop asking that yet?" the tiny turtle snapped, "you have the same view we do. It's nothing but dirt for miles."

Potato's eyes lowered from the grumpy little creature and trailed down the big oaf's towering frame. His view was certainly different from theirs, they weren't forced to follow behind a giant dork in soiled, undersized booty shorts. Potato took in the horrid sight before him, the once pristine shorts were now stained a putrid brown. He couldn't tell what was dirt, shit, or who knows what else. He stared hopelessly at the miniscule article of clothing, making out images in the stains like clouds in the sky.

It was quiet for awhile as Potato entertained himself by staring at the filthy asscheeks. The silence allowed BranChan time to give into his anxiety. He had underestimated how far this journey would be and feared the strange creature wouldn't accept the now dried out pink flowers. He nervously chewed on a dirt encrusted fingernail as he prayed they'd find a new field of flowers soon. The big oaf noticed how Turtles had begun shifting uncomfortably on his shoulder. His face scrunched up when he felt something wet on his collar bone. It wasn't a drop of water but rather some sort of drool. He glanced down just as Turtles licked from his chin and onto his neck. The little animal was drinking his sweat. He knew they needed to find water soon.

Potato watched as the animal continued licking the disgusting oaf. His mind immediately went back to the moment they first met, when the tiny creature was clamped around BranChan's stinky weiner. What the hell was wrong with these two? They disgusted him.

As he fantasized about murdering the freaks in the desert, he didn't realize he was lost in his thoughts for so long. He yelped loudly as he found himself nose to nose with BranChan's bulging erection. When had the lumbering oaf stopped walking? And why the hell was he hard? The sudden contact made him jump away. Potato stumbled backwards and the oaf dropped the useless flowers in shock.

The angry lad looked wildly around for something solid to hold onto. He grabbed a nearby rock and held it tightly in his hand. He was ready to bash the creep's head in if he tried anything funny. BranChan's eyes widened in surprise, he hadn't expected Potato to react so violently. He wondered if perhaps the heat had made him delirious. "What's wrong with you?" the big oaf asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"What the fuck do you think is wrong with me," Potato spat back viciously, clutching desperately to the dusty weapon in his hand, "we've been on this stupid quest for, like, seven months now."