Ass Joke Hero: The Sam Pals Story

The Death of Sam Pals

(Disclaimer: This story is satirical in nature. Don't take this shit too seriously. This first chapter is going to be shitty, because I'm bad at exposition, but this story will get better.)
The day was a clear one in Lewiston, Idaho. The hot, hot sun bared down on the backs of the three boys walking along the levee. To the far left was Marshall. A scrawny, lanky, pale fellow of average height and build. His long, meticulously cut nails, metal-braced teeth and cuntishly sadistic personality were his only defining features. To the far right was Franlun. Franlun weighed 400 pounds and he showed it. His jaw hung down in a twisted and mindless position at all times, and underneath his massive manboobs lived colonies of bugs and small mammals, perfectly suited to the moist and warm climate of the boy's enormous rolls. In the middle of the group stood our hero, Samuel Pals. Each freckle on his face represented a shitty, unfunny joke that he had made in his lifetime. His SnapBack, greasy longboard, and bro tank only served to contrast his chromosome count, 3,846. His retardation had not yet reached the acutely douchey and maniacal point of Marshall, 69,420, or the truly euphoric, vegetative state of Franlun, whose chromosome count had recently risen to over 1,000,000. No, Sam was simply cripplingly autistic. He picked up a pine one off the ground and grinned a filthy grin at the object. "Sam what the fuck?" Asked Marshall, chuckling under his breath. Sam looked around and finally stammered from his disgustingly unwashed mouth, "I shove up my ass." Sam then proceeded to shove the pinecone into his anus, stretching and tearing the fibers of his rectum until the pinecone was all the way up there. All traces of laughter had disappeared from the other two boys. "Sam you fucking nigger shit cunt." Spewed Franlun from his vulgar chin-hole, "You shove something up your autistic ass every day." Marshall nodded his head in agreement, "Yeah, get some new material you fucking retard." He firmly sacked Sam in the nuts. "AAUGH" Sam cried out in agony. As autistic as he was, testicle pain still affected him to an immense degree. "Sam can be some funny if him go piss in river." Franlun coughed, barely able to form cohesive sentences from his chromosome-filled brain. Samuel understood though. Franlun had just told him to go and take a piss into the snake river, a feat he could easily achieve. "Mmmmmmm chawwenge assepted." Sam muttered as he rode his longboard down a long stretch of asphalt and grass to the river's edge. He whipped out his dick, roughly the size of a grape, and began to piss in the river. Marshall and Franlun looked into each other's eyes. The trap was set and this was their time to act. You see, being the retard oracle that he was, Franlun had seen deep into the heart of Sam Pals, and registered that the boy had more than enough potential to surpass him in chromosome level. Thus he had designed this plot to kill the autistic creature. He and Marshall approached as quietly as a lizard-like creep and an obese abomination could, and as they reached a safe distance, they executed their plan. Sam felt the meaty hand of Franlun on his back. Sam felt the pain as his dick and balls were crushed against an underwater rock. Sam smelled the piss entering his every orofice. Sam heard the rush of the current that carried him away, unconscious, all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Was this the end for our hero?
....
....
No.
Three weeks passed. Franlun and Marshall had returned to their edgy everyday life, and all was well in Lewiston without Sam's shitty ass jokes. However, on a remote desert island in the middle of the pacific, a body washed up onto the sand. This body, which smelled of piss and shined bright red from the sun's UV radiation, belonged to Sam Pals. And as his fists clenched, lightning struck in Lewiston. Sam's vengeance was just about to begin.