Friday, July 7, 2017

"Write a story about Bruce Bogtrotters life after Matilda"

Bruce Bogtrotter, everyone remembers the fat gross curly haired kid who ate a whole chocolate cake made of blood, sweat and tears, it looked delicious and the ungrateful rat took way too long to get hat down his gullet, spoilt, that’s what he is!

Ever since their family moved to the US of A they have been Bog trotting champions in their town. They’ve won every year for the last 200 years. Hell, that’s where they got the name, money and z-list fame.

To win the Bogtrotter race, a couple of entrees must basically run a race with their trousers round their legs and a toilet seat around their head and they got to run whilst holding the toilet seat up. It was difficult yet funny to watch because it was also quite dangerous not having hands to fall on if your trousers tripped you. Which they did a lot.

Bruce’s parents were lazy twats, they mostly just locked him in the house and went about their lives, Bruce learnt most of his life lessons from food packaging. My God, he even thought that frowning at food would turn it bad.

He learnt from food packing how to love his family, well, how to look like he loves his family. Y’know, sitting on the settee, smiling near a human. Didn’t know how to do that normal, in his fantasies about it he still feels sad and just pouts.

This never set him back in landing other opportunities in films, like the Wedding singer and the Willy Wonka factory remake!

Of course, Bogtrotter was the fat kid in the pipe, who else could have been cast for that crap?!!! Just Bruce, probably.

Apparently, he generally was actually psychically stuck in the pipe for seventeen days and the suction just kept on suckling, when he eventually got out, the pipe had sucked all his hair off!

Poor Bruce, bald, incontinent and has a nervous twitch where his arm rises and his head tilts quickly and he shouts, “jelly tots” randomly.

Turns out his incontinence was due to diabetes! Nothing great ever happened to Bruce, he even lost a toe because of it, which he kept floating in a cup of water. It was foul, the toe was black and rank smelling.

It was cool though, having diabetes, meant he had first choice of food in high school, doctors note and everything. He presented it proudly to all the normal sized students every day, twelve o clock on the dot. He was basically first anyway.

Bullied constantly, limping, twitching, pissing himself, fat Bruce had crap from everyone. Not to mention that he was bald at twelve. He was a walking and talking laugh.

He thought college would be well different, poor twat was well excited to learn in a mature environment. Pah! It was the exact same, just a few new faces and insults.

They used to shout about all the children starving in Africa and how it was his fault and how even been accused of eating a person.

The Police even tested his stool following reports from parents.

Like he is so huge, they thought he could have swallowed another kid whole.

A snake he was not.

He’s always been empowered by tea, the little special leaves, handpicked, he thought the hand had chosen him to be the giant unstoppable eating machine just because he sometimes had a cup of tea for breakfast.

It started when he got a habit of snorting sugar to rebel against the hand and try and loose a shed ton of weight. Irony. Bruce loved the sugar rock. Noice!

He began trying to sell his sugar to others and gained a few dodgy friends. He used to crush the sugar so it looked a little chalky but it didn’t really do anything, probably could cause maggots in the brain like.

The sugar made him more nuts mentally though, he’d get really hyper and flip out, he punched a dick off a guy, seriously, it full out popped off with a punch. Through the zipper. No screams, no blood, just a clean move of dick and shocked faces all around.

Bruce realised that the sugar was giving him metal magic powers. He was solid and could pop off genitals like it was nothing.

He screamed in a girl’s face and her eyes fucking exploded, popped in his face, blind for the rest of her days, and he didn’t even get done for it, prove it was him like, nope.

Phone the police on me for popping off dicks, nothing they can do. Prove it.

Bruce was relentless, all he did was snort and play up with anyone stupid enough to be around him.

Bruce pulled on his own nipples so hard that Mark’s nips became like bananas hanging from his chest. Prove it bitch. He didn’t lay a finger on him. They just swelled at the same moment as him pulling his.

“His tits are just bananas, what can I say?” He explained, kind of.

The filth laughed it off, this kid is a bit strange, not dangerous, just nuts.

He’s hung out at bars and took home desperate women or men, even goats and would force them to race him in their trousers around their ankles around the house, if they wouldn’t he’d threaten to remove their big toe thus stopping them wearing flip flops forever.

Some would argue that preventing flip flops was the work of a hero and so did Bruce. Of course, none of these people wanted to race this guy in their underwear but I never really heard of many people actually losing toes so he probably never followed through anyway. Useless.


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