The Giving Tree Lost Book
This is a fictional joke story written by DaveTheUseless. Don't take it seriously, fellas.
Hello. I am a Priest and my name is Father Chewsthefat. I don't use condoms because of my religion so I have three sons. Of my three sons the two are older and have gone to college and converted to Mormonism and I couldn't give less of a fuck about them anymore, but as for my youngest I teach him in the ways of the faith. Assuring that his upbringing goes the way it should I made sure that his mother and I (we hate each other, we're only still together because the church forbids divorce) read him a copy of The Giving Tree every single night before going to bed. However, kids these days are too 'cool' to read paper books so I bought a copy of The Giving Tree from the local Publix that I now use as compost to keep the flies away from our outhouse. The electronic version did the trick, and besides it's less tithing money put to use if I just steal shit off the internet, anyway.
"Once there was a tree...", I began, clearly disheveled from listening to confessions from women masturbating about JFK Jr., "...and she loved a little boy." I was not comfortable with this story so far, but I continued reading it anyway. "And every day, the boy would come and he would gather her leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest." Whoops, my boy dozed off to bed. I smacked his stuffed aardvark in the muzzle with a ruler and that woke him up, crying. Good thing that I'm not one to spare the rod. "He would climb up her trunk, and swing from her branches and..." I gasped at what appeared in the illustrations next. The boy was bending down and taking a dump on the tree. At the very base of the tree.
"Anyway." I skipped some pages to get right to the point. "The boy went to the tree and asked for money but the tree had no money so he sold her apples for money. Then he..." I squinted closer at the illustration. The boy, now a teenager, was clearly shitting on the apples. "Alright, moving along..." I skipped some more pages. "The young man mutilated the tree and built a house from her branches. She consented, so that made it okay." My boy's eyes were widened and bloodshot from crying but who gives a fuck. "The tree was happy, though. In fact, here's a picture of his wife and children enjoying the..." There was a picture of the man, now middle aged, along with his wife and children pissing and shitting all over the tree. I threw the book across the room and out my child's window. "The End."
That night, I went outside to use the outhouse and I was followed by some flies. I smelled my armpits and realized the scent of shit had gotten all over me. I went back inside to take a shower and my bowels were uncontrollable and I took a massive dump in the tub. I kept shitting and shitting and shitting until I passed out.
When I woke up I was in the emergency room and the doctor stared down at me, smiling menacingly. "I cannot operate on this man.", the doctor proclaimed. Oh, no. All I could make out were his razor-like incisors. They did seem a tad discolored. ... Brown? No, I must have been hallucinating. "After all... that man is my father."
The man proceeded to pull down his pants and take a massive shit and piss all over my face while I let out a muffled scream for help. I realized I had a chance of winning a fight because he had stumps for arms and legs, so I jolted right out of bed and engaged in combat stance after clearly wiping the feces and urine off of my face. I could see him clearly now... although I realized afterwards I wasn't ready to.
The doctor was me. I had suffered psychosis from giving all of myself to the priesthood forty years ago.
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