Shrimp
"They call him...a shrimp."
Roberto stared at his friend with a raised eyebrow, unsure if he was joking, though the upturned mouth crease Tony was desperately trying to hide seemed to suggest so.
"A shrimp?"
"Yeah, a shrimp."
"Well why the fuck do they call him that?"
"I'm getting to it, alright, I'm getting to it. You'll understand soon."
Tony wiped his chin with one of the diner's unlimited napkins, a mischievous glint in his eye. It was Halloween at Shimmy Sammy's Flavour Dungeon, the place dressed head to toe in décor, and Tony had promised his friend a terrifying story the likes of which would keep him up for days. Roberto had grown weary of Tony's usual tales: the evil Red Dead Redemption 2 disc, the missing paper shop, the Wikipedia plot summary of Scary Movie 1-5; he demanded something new, something fresh, something to keep the Halloween spirit alive. And Tony was about to deliver.
"So they call this guy a shrimp because he has no arms and legs. Lost them in a freak camel stampede. And he's always bent over, a bit like-
"Ya mudda." Roberto interjected, smirking.
"Yeah, real funny, Rob. I oughta bleed you like a pig."
Tony sucked up a boba ball with his biodegradable paper straw and p'tooed it at Roberto, who caught it in his mouth and gobbled it up.
"You're not supposed to eat the balls, moron. Now it's gonna be stuck inside you for seven years."
"I was stuck inside ya mudda for seven years. And you're thinking of gum, not tapioca balls."
"You can tapioca my balls."
"The fuck does that mean? You gay or somethin'?"
"Can I please just get on with the story? For fuck's sake."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, go on. Sorry."
Tony took a breath to continue, only to be interrupted by a passing waitress, covered head to toe in spiderwebs.
"Jesus, lady, you look like you just crawled outta my brother's attic. And he's not been up there in years." he spoke.
"It's Halloween, dipshit."
"Oh yeah."
There was a moment of awkward silence, before the woman inquired:
"Do you two gentlemen want any Buttsauce™?" The woman inquired.
"You already said that."
"Huh?"
"No, not you."
"Okay, well..."
"That's a no on the Buttsauce™"
"You sure, Tone?" Roberto said. "They do a delicious Buttsauce™ here. All homema-
"I don't want any freakin' Buttsauce™. I'm not a Buttsauce™ kind of guy. You're just gonna have to live with that."
Roberto nodded solemnly, a single tear falling from his eye. "You gonna eat that?" Tony said, catching it.
"You're one greedy fuck, y'know that?" The waitress chimed in.
"Ya mudda." Tony snapped his fingers and she was gone in a puff of smoke.
"So, anyway, they call him a shrimp because he's got no arms or legs and he's always doubled over like one, in a C-shape. Something wrong with his spine, apparently. But somehow, some way, he adopts a life of crime, to get revenge on the guy who put him in that state."
"The guy who made him like that? I thought you said it was 'cus of the freak camel stampede."
"Yeah, well, this guy organised the freak camel stampede."
"I wish I could do that." Roberto took a sip of Pepto Bismol and frowned.
"...okay. So, the guy who did it is this tough sorta Asian guy. He looked like...like that guy, there."
Tony pointed at a buff-looking Phillipinoid sat on his own across the room. Upon hearing himself being mentioned in the pair's conversation, the man promptly burst into tears and ran out of the room crying.
"What a fuckin' rice."
"Woooow, you just called him a 'rice'? I didn't know I was friends with a racist."
"Trust me, I'm just staying in character."
"Tone, what are you talkin' about?"
"It'll all make sense. Lemme finish the story, goddamn it. How many times?"
"I don't know, Tone...ain't this supposed to be a horror story? You know they only allow scary stories here, right? Or stories that are at least attempting to be scary?"
"The scary part's coming later. Now will you keep your trap shut for more than 5 seconds?"
Roberto zipped up his mouth and threw away the key. It was very painful. Tony paused, taking a moment to utilize his emergency floss to dislodge a crumb of shortcake from his teeth.
"So the shrimp and the Asian guy are mortal enemies, obviously. I won't go into their full backstory; it gets very convoluted – you can always just look it up on the wiki later. But eventually, the shrimp gets rehabilitated, gives up his life of crime, becomes a good citizen again. The Asian guy, on the other hand, is a serial offender; eventually he ends up murdering his bunkmate and gets the chair."
"The chair? Like in wrestling?"
"No, you idiot. The electric chair."
"Ah."
"And get this, get this: because he was the guy who made the shrimp into...well, a shrimp, they get the shrimp to flip the lever to send him to hell. And boom. There's the plot twist. There's the mindfuck. Soak it in, take some time to gather yourself."
"Wait, what?"
"He has no arms or legs, Rob."
"So?"
"So how did he do it?"
"How did he do what?"
"How did a shrimp fry that rice?"
Deleted Scene
"Gee, Tone, with the amount of talkin' you've been doin' about shrimp, I could've sworn you were going on about ya dick again."
"Fuck you. Suck my dick."
"Your shrimp dick?"
"You know who sucks on my shrimp dick?"
"Ya mudda!" The two men exclaimed in unison, bursting into raucous laughter.
"You know, you and I are not so different, Robert." Tony said.
"Quite," Robert replied, unbuttoning his petticoat.
Written by Cornconic
Content is available under CC BY-SA
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