Tevun-Krus #48 - StonePunk

Sticks and Stones - A Short Story by @LeighWStuart

I apologize in advance, but there is no glossary for my Stonepunk story written entirely in an imagined Pigeon English. If you can't figure out a word or sentence, try reading it out loud. If that doesn't work, try not to worry about it nearly as much as you should be worried that either Trump or Kim Jong-un will begin a nuclear war which would lead to a nuclear winter and the death of 99.9%* of all life on Earth.

*Non-scientific estimation. This story is quite optimistic in assuming any humans survive and that as the winter set in, scientists were able to clone Mammoths. Just sayin'...

"Him wanna th' face-time with me?" Kween Rockin be blowin' dam fethers out o' her eyes, her kweenie hat gettin in th' way. Keepin it cool, gurl, keepin it cool. A yuge army o' men-folk was waitin out in th' hills n thiz man be peepin on her gurlz. She be needin to be knowin what he be knowin bout themen war monger men.

"Yo, Kween. Face-time. Him sayin th' sticks n stones, maybe zem not so hot. You wanna me grilled-chicken him up? Th' gurls could all usem a good man come dinna tonitey-nite," second command Freaka be sayin.

Boy, th' gurlz be getting a good laff now. "Finger lickin good and all that shit." Be comin round the Game o' Throne where Kween Rockin be sittin her royal-like ass.

"Yeh, hoes. Finger licken good," be so agreein' Freaka. Shees all like, noddin' that head n showin' what left o' her dam munchers.

"Nah, bae, letz give him face-time him wantin." Kween Rockin weren't th' dam kween for nuttin. Sheez usin her grey-stuff. A man come in here, wantin face-time, maybe him knowin somethin. Wakey like man, lit on fire like th' fire god in that sky above. Kween Rockin be skwintin upperways in th' sky, so bluesy withuh fire god burnin a bright hole o' fire fit to kill th' world.

Y'all be knowin about th' fire that dam killed th' world, nah?

Long agos, so long agos, all people on thiz world were scared shitless that dam Global Gettin Warmer. Gettin Warmer wooden be so nice rite dese days. Dam. Rite befor Global Gettin Warmer, Mister Pres himself so hi, so mitey-mite, him sent upperways th' Big-Ass Momma Boms. But what goin upperways be comin downerways, yeh.

Boom Shakka-Lakka. Nukey winter, baby. Y'all hearin it here.

Kween Rockin shivered her timbers a bit in her plastic rappy-round coat. Dam fires in them dam pits left n rite by that throne no keepin her warm. But bizness, baby. "Fetch me my yoga mamma. Let her put her ear to thiz face-time."

A man, her gurlz be sayin men be tastin like chicken, but her gurlz ain't never lay munchers to chiken befor, he be braht on up to her Game o' Throne. Her second command kep her spear in him spare ribs. No man stands afore Kween Rockin without a spear at him. All gurlz be knowin who was who bring Nukey winter: dam men-folk.

"Look likey we be havin' grilled chiken tonitey-nite," Kween Rockin be sayin. Man shakin with feer. She not meenin harm, jus joshin, jus havin fun waitin on her yoga momma. Yoga momma next so powerful as Kween n she gots th' grey stuff. Plenty o' grey stuff in her noggin.

"Kween Rockin, if you be allowin me, I be happy bendin' my nee for you," be sayin th' man.

"Ha! You think you be flatterin? You think I be put off my gard? Bizness, baby. I be knowing war mongers at my gate, jus pass my hills. Men comin here, wantin to kill my gurlz. I tell you somethin." Him be leanin, listenin' like her be sayin secrets in th' vine. "Howabouts, we be settin you on that hot grill for us dinna?"

Him shakin no, pretty-please no.

"So what say you? We be doin bizness, or we be doin fun? Kuz, my gurlz feelin mite peckish."

"Kween Rockin!" yoga mamma be callin. "You need me be readin that future from heaven up above?"

Clouds bein wavey thin, but her Yoga Mamma could seein that future in them clouds.

"Yup."

Yoga mamma bent halfways. That man skweelin like a little mouse when seein her twisty so.

"I see," her be sayin. In th' profecies, her words bent n twisty, so her be sayin like befor that Nukey Winter. "I see men hiding in the ravine. I see men with big-ass sticks and stones. They come for blood, they come for our mammoth babies, but if we use our brains, they will not defeat us. One day, avocados will grow on toast again, apples will speak, but be overpriced, winter will not be coming, but summer, a soft summer, not the Global Warming kind that will kill us all. I see, I see donuts and a grande, sugar-free, iced vanilla latte with soy milk and caramel drizzle. I see—"

She be twistin harder, so her body be goin pretzel. Th' man sweatin now, baby!

"I see...one ring to rule them all and a deal to save us all."

"One ring! Allz good, Yoga Momma, I got that ring rite here," Kween Rockin be sayin. Her one ring o' power that be comin withuh Game o' Throne she be sittin in. But a deal? Bizness. "Take that bitch and getting her some sleepy-sleep." She whacked her spear on stone so as her warrior babes be takin yoga momma to bed.

Her hiyer than a kite when she be saying th' future, n crazy too.

"War mongers in zuh hills," Kween Rockin be sayin at th' man. Him be noddin away him noggin. "You gotta deal for your life or nah?"

"Deal. In my pack-pack I gotta seeds. Them frozen up afor. And, and I gotta mammoth jizm. For th' momma mammoths."

"Butter my biskit. That ain't no deal. Thatz Blackest Friday and Xmas rolled in one."

"Wait! Wait, you be needin somebody can insert that jizm. Mammoth mammas, you know, don't be likin folk what sneaks up behind 'em. Rite? A man. I be bein a man. I could do it."

"Kween Rockin be laffin now. "All rite. Deal. What them big tooth tiger men in th' hills be wantin that jizm for? Themall be getting mammoths? Mammoths for war mongerin?"

"Nah. For eatin. No grilled-chiken, yeh? Grilled Mammoth. Only dam good thingy-majig those science men be doin durin that Nukey Winter. Makin Mammoths. Yowzers, them good eatin."

A warrior come runnin. "War, my Kween! Tiger Tooth Men thunderstormin throu them hills."

"Sticks n stones!" Kween Rockin be yelling. "Sticks n stones n we be crushin them bones!"

"Sticks n stones!" Th' sweet rumble o' stone wheels be comin from th' tunnels behiny Kween Rockin. Cross-bow spear shooters rigged atop branch n tree for th' killin work. Bizness baby. Kween Rockin be standin n yelling wtih her warrior gurlz, stone tipped spears in th' air pointin at th' fiery sun god. "Sticks n stones n we be crushin them bones n ain't ne'er a dog be uglier!"

"Still be thinkin that last part be needin some Oompa-pa. Ne'er a dog be ulier. What in Trump Hotel be bein a dog?" Freaka be sayin soft like.

"Nowz be not th' time, second command. Roll out th' Sticks n Stones! Roll out them stone war machine giz-whizzies! We gonna crush those ass-wipes!"

"Mm, sorry Kween, but our Sticks n Stones be bigger then your Sticks n Stones," be sayin th' man.

Kween Rockin be holdin her spear end, th' pointy part to him neck. Rite where th' blood be goin boop-boop-boop in him vane. "Why you be tellin me?"

"We gotta deal. B'sides, you women folk, maybe you be findin jars from afor them Nukey Winter. You maybe be needin a man round th' place. Yeh?" him be askin.

"Hmph. Second command!" she be yelling. "If it bein true, n our Sticks n Stones giz-whizzies ain't killin th' Tiger Tooth Men, then what you be recommendin me?"

"Our warrior gurlz throw them stones from atop th' hills?"

"Mammoths, my second command. We be letting loose th' Mammoths o' War. Stomp stomp baby. Bizness like them men ain't ne'er be seein befor."

Freaka let loose a woop-woop, n also a wee teer at her words o' coorage n power, but Kween Rockin be pretendin like shees not noticing. Warrior gurlz don't be cryin.

"Fleek, Kween Rockin'," Freaka be sayin. "You be bein so on fleek."

Kween Rockin be givin a wink n leadin th' way to war.

The end.