BIG CHUNGUS IS REAL

 Hello all,

    To explain the title. I've been having these dreams man. I hesitate to call them dreams. Their realism strikes me. It stuns me. Every day, I wake up and cry because it feels like I'm leaving where I should be. I feel real emotions for the people in my dreams. I can't feel physical pains or touch, but mentally, I am feel anguish and emotional damage every time I wake up from these dreams. If everything was right in the world, that is where I would be, among my dreams. Now, I'm crying for other reasons. I've been seeing Big Chungus in every dream I've been having recently. I think this may be a mental reaction from the stress of Brady's coma, and may be how I'm coping. The cause doesn't matter. What matters is that I've been seeing Big Chungus around every corner in the dreams. Every dream. It's terrifying. The people I love like Brady get ravaged by Big Chungis. I don't know. I don't think it's dreams anymore. I've been hearing his laughs as well as him whispering my name. It sounds as if the wind carries his words. I know. I know for a fact. I know a genuine truth now, after encountering Big Chungis in the mall near my house. It was nearly empty since I was there at a late time, and I was among the only patrons. Big Chungus revealed himself to me through a mirror. I saw him and ran. I rode my dirtbike all the way home. Perhaps that was just a dream. Whom knows .

    I am writing this post while slowly fading in and out of consciousness which is why it may seem erratic. My parents finally met their match today. I won. Their days of terrorizing my internet time are over. Also Brady has apparently died. I guess to start this story of both intense freedom and loss, I will start at the beginning. At least the beginning of this story. So my internet time was limited to 30 minutes by my parents because of my brother Brady's coma. He succumbed to a comatose state due to reasons beyond my control, and my parents stole away my tablet and about 10.5 hours of my internet time, leaving me with only 30 minutes to peruse, write and play on the internet. I tried many tactics to get my internet time back. Firstly, I would make Cameron Stews on the kitchen floor and have my mother clean it up. My parents both hated it because my mom has to clean the stew up - my father saw the products he brought with his money go to absolute waste. It did not work. Many stews were made and no change occurred. I made one final Cameron Stew inside the attic using the blown in attic insulation as a final farewell to my creation. The result was a pink mess. It smelled putrid when making it. I couldn't smell it until 15 days after it's creation when the scent fell down from the attic and infested the house. I believe it may have altered the brains of my parents and I, much like chipped lead paint. My parents were starting to erode though, and I could tell that their love for Brady was starting to fade. 

   I knew I had to step it up if I was to get anywhere. I thought that if I could destroy my dad's want to be a parent, I could just take my tablet and hide it. I thought of the thing my dad loved the most outside of me, his new car. He recently got a 2017 Toyota Corolla and it is his new baby. He makes me take off my shoes and put them in the trunk before I am allowed to get in to the car. Also, I am not allowed to ride in the front seat which is fucked. He also made me wax it and it took the entire day and it sucked dick. I wanted to kill him and Brady at that moment. But that was like 6 months ago haha. I knew I had to destroy his baby to make him lose the will and mental fortitude to parent me correctly and stop me from using the tablet. I knew what I had to do. I decided to drain the oil out by crawling underneath. I got oil all over my face and body and hands but I just wiped it off in the grass and tried not to drink that much of it. I also decided to fill the gas tank with sugar and put all sorts of pebbles into each container in the engine. I google translated "this is for cutting me off in traffic fucker" and translated it into Spanish (to throw off the scent of me being the culprit) and posted it on his car. I then tried to light the inside on fire and failed and I got burned pretty bad cause I had oil on me still but I then picked up some vodka my dad had and light that on fire in the car seat and burned myself more. I got out easily and took the note off the door and put it on the driveway and held it down with a rock. This may seem drastic, but it took me like 2 days to plan it out. Also I have cat like reflexes, which will be elaborated on later. Returning to the present     .    .     .

    I executed my brave escapade at 2:34 am because the numbers are sacred to me - they came to me in a dream that was so realistic, I knew that it was actually another dimension inside myself. The car alarm went off and I had to crawl in through the bathroom window. I landed flatly on my face and then slipped through the house to my room. I slyly crawled through the house, careful to not wipe burnt oil on anything. I slipped into my room and slept in Brady's part of the bunk bed because I didn't wanna get my sheets dirty at all. I could hear my dad scream in horror as he lay witness to the seeds of destruction he sowed. He took everything away from me and I will stop at nothing to gain it back. His screams of pain and anguish sounded eerily similar to when he learned of Brady's first coma. They were also similar to the screams of learning about Brady's loss of brain function. Laying in bed, I could feel my scorched arms and legs and torso and hair upon the bedsheets. Pangs of pain filtered through my body. It hurt me deeply for a second. I remembered what I gained though and the pain subsided. My rights returned to me. I am the eldest boy and I will be treated as such  .   .    . 

    I awoke to my father in the morning. He woke me up by turning on the lights in my room which makes me go absolutely bonkers. I told him to give me some time and he said that his car was burned down and busted out by some Mexican gangsters. I thought to myself that there was no reason he should think it was a Mexican person because a ton of people speak Spanish  but I didn't say anything because my plan had worked (in the sense that I was not going to be arrested for blowing up my dad's car in our driveway) . I hid a smile as I told my dad how sorry I was for him and he asked if we could go car shopping. I figured my plan had failed (in the sense that my dad didn't give up on parenting) and it was best to course correct and try to get on my dads good side. I got dressed in a hoodies and large pants to cover my burns. He said that his insurance company would cover the entire cost of the car. Later that would come back to bite him in the butt! We went to the car dealership and my dad bought a lifted truck before the insurance payout came. The truck was a lot of money but we drove home in luxury. I spent the day chilling in my room cause of my burns. I didn't risk going for my tablet because my plan had worked out the opposite of how I planned. My dad got a car he liked better out of the deal. I slept for 15 hours that night, mostly because I think my body was trying to fight off infections inside my burns. I was awaken at 3 P.M. by my mother screaming at my father. They screamed for around 45 minutes. After the police came (I think my neighbors called the police cause they yelled for so long and my dad said some shit about his gun or something), they stopped. From the large amount of information that I was subjected to in those 45 minutes, I concluded that the insurance payout was about 2,000$ because the insurance company deemed my father's car worth 2000$. He expected a 50000$ payout and so he spent 60,000$ on a lifted truck. I didn't know, but when my dad went to the bank to get the money, he spent 2 hours inside while I was in the car because he took out a second mortgage on the house. I just thought he forgot his pin number again like that one time he went into this place called Exxxotic one time and left me in the car.

     My mom was really mad about the second mortgage being taken out and demanded my dad return the car and the money but he refused because he said that it was his god given right. That's the gist of the argument pretty much. A lot more was said though and many of my parents past mistakes were brought up. After the police left, I walked out to hopefully make an Eggo waffle and found the house obliterated. The noises I attributed to my father growling were actually the sounds of most of the furniture in the kitchen and living room - alongside the paintings on those walls and other things located on the walls like some lights and decorations and family photos in frames - being viciously destroyed. The flatscreen was sawed in half somehow. I remember thinking that sound was my mom fucking around with the zipper on her jeans while screaming. I encountered my parents in the living room. After looking at the destruction and carnage, I turned and saw their eyes. What I thought was going to be fury was instead defeat. My mother explained to me. She told me - the look of emptiness in her eyes pierced me like a dagger (or perhaps a Van Terminator). She stood slouched. I could see the lines of worry sprawl across her face, most likely a mix of emotions between Brady's coma and brain death alongside my parents semi-constant fighting - "I'm sorry for the loud noises Cam, we were remodeling". She looked through me to the damage inside the home. The life she worked so hard for in ruins. She asked me to go to Burger King with her and Daddio. I obliged. My father helped me into the truck and then climbed into the driver's seat. My mother could not reach the running boards of the truck and my dad told her that it was tough shit. She went into the garage and grabbed a small stepladder. My mother yelled to my dad to open the door because she could not reach the handle but he declined disrespectfully. He did a suck it motion and crossed his arms tastefully (It was faithful to Triple H, the originator of Suck It). My mother then went into the garage again and got a larger ladder. She used it to climb into the car. She was able to reach the handle to the truck this time. Whilst that happened, my father turned up the Morgan Wallen to 37. My mom asked him to turn it down and I could feel the bass behind me. There were subwoofers installed behind me by the previous owner. He turned it up to 42. The Burger King was 49 minutes away. It was a long and loud ride  .   .   .

    My father climbed out of the truck. My mother took a small drop and landed squarely on her feet outside the land shark. I slithered out of the truck and landed like a cat. I have reflexes like a cat if I have never mentioned that before (ANOTHER REASON TO WATCH OUT FOR ME CHRIS NEWMAN YOU GODDAMNED SON OF A BITCH! ANOTHER THING BROTHER, TRUMP WON THE PRESIDENCY (THANK YOU HULK HOGAN) AND WILL BE SENDING A CRUISE MISSILE STRAIGHT INTO YOUR MOUNTAIN DOMICILE! i SENT Q YOUR ADDRESS AND OTHER INCRIMINATING EVIDENCE AGAINST YOU AND YOUR LECHEROUS PARASITE SYCOPHANT DISGUSTINGLY SMELLY MINION DARK MIKE AND (SOON TO BE PRESIDENT ELECT AND PRESIDENT) BONALD BRUMP WILL BE FORWARDED IT FROM Q AND ACT UPON IT IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE I IMMEDIATELY WAS HELPFUL TO GET HIM ELECTED IN 2024!!!BROTHER!!!!!!!!!!) and it's just cool that I have those haha. My father asked my mom where the coupons were and she said she forgot. My father's face turned red, and his anger was palpable in the air, much like the heat on the road on a hot summers day. The vein on his forehead bulged Far out. I knew he was clenching his fists inside his pockets. A car chanced upon us in the middle of the road so we had to quickly jump to the shore AKA sidewalk. I was thankful for the car since I could tell my father was about to say something brash. As my feet fell upon the sidewalk that led into the restaurant, I looked back and realized my father's face has worsened. His eyes lacked anger and instead looked relieved. He flatly told me "Your mother and I are getting divorced. Me and my truck are leaving." Beyond him, my mom's mouth fell agape. She rapped back some insults and slurs. Ones that didn't even fit. I knew she was seething. Daddio laughed it off and walked into the restaurant like a cowboy (it helped was wearing his pit vipers). 

    My father ordered a Texas Doble Whopper and a Spicy Royal Crispy Chicken with a Whopper patty on it and also a large coke and a large french fries and large onion rings and a Big Fish and a Rodeo Burger. I ordered an Wednesday's Whopper and Things Rings and Gomez's Churro Fries and Morticia's Kooky Chocolate Shake and I also ordered some chicken fries. I ate the left over stuff that my dad didn't eat too like 7 french fries and also a few bites of the Big Fish and Texas Double Whopper. My mom didn't order and immediately sat at the table. My father and I dined while she sat there, dejected. She went up and ordered a diet coke after I had finished my meal (the part that wasn't leftovers) and my father was halfway done with his King's feast. She sipped on it, loudly. She didn't mean to and quickly quieted her sips. It was a quiet lunch outside of that sip and my father's loud chewing. The dinner took 54 minutes. Once again, my father and I easily entered the glorious steed. My mother, who naively forgot to bring my father's ladder to BK, could not get inside the truck for a considerable amount of time. It took her like 13 minutes to climb up inside the truck. She entered the truck crying. Her hands were black from crawling up the tires. She turned down the blaring Morgan Wallen. I could see the trepidation on her lips. They quivered as she barely managed to squeak out, "I want to pull the plug on Brady". I felt the wind escape my lungs. Somehow, I know Chris Newman had replaced my mother or something similar due to the brash things she was saying about Brady. Chris and Dark Mike caused his brain death and thus must be responsible for this. Before I could process what my mom said fully, my dad blurted out "YURP!" and jacked the Morgan Wallen back up  .   .   . 

    I noticed we drove a different way back home but didn't say anything. The music was too loud and my seat was too bouncy, so anything I said has a large amount of vibrato. Furthermore, I was terrified of causing any more anguish between my parents and perhaps having them decide to pull the plug on me as well. Before my thoughts could truly spiral, we arrived in a large parking lot. I couldn't see the store we parked in. As I snaked out of the truck, I realized we were at the surgery store A.K.A. the hospital. We entered the hospital as a family. We boarded the elevator and traveled to Brady's floor. My father saw the doctor responsible for Brady and yelled to him from down the hall "YO DOC WE ARE PULLING THE PLUG ON OUR BOY!" I would detail what happened next, but it would be disgusting to profit off the death of my brother Brady. I will say though that his corpse reminded me of roadkill. We left the hospital quickly. My father switched out the Morgan Wallen and instead listened to Stan by Eminem on repeat. We cried together as a family. Chris Newman will pay for what he has done.

    As we sat in the hospital parking lot, my mother said that we should do what Brady would have wanted because we owe it to him. We all agreed. My father ran into the hospital. I saw him as he disappeared into the elevator. I can only assume he went down, because he came out carrying Brady's body on his shoulders (so assumedly he travelled down in the elevator to the #morgue). He ran out. I think he may have stolen the body, but no one seemed to care. I guess he really can do whatever he wants to do to the body since probably under U.S. law, the father owns the child's body. I don't wanna look it up because it's too depressing of a topic so I'd rather just pontificate about the issue. However, I will refrain (Like a king). My father tossed my little brother's lifeless remains into the back of the pickup truck. His first attempt didn't work because the trucks bed was too high. Brady hit the truck's rear axel and flopped on the ground. I heard the sound directly beneath me. This leads me to believe that my father threw my brother with way too much horizontal force and not enough vertical momentum. My father then picked up his body and yelled "HEAVE HO!". I turned around in my seat to see Brady's corpse flop into the bed of the truck. His legs didn't make it in, so my dad made me open the middle window of the back window and pull Brady into the bed. His tongue was out and he was like :P 😂😂😂😂😂

    My dad drove to the local Buccees, Brady's favorite place on Earth. I remember how we would be taken there in my dad's corolla and would watch them cut up brisket and just walk around the aisles. We would always stuff snacks and food in my dad's thief jacket with large pockets and eat it in the family stall of the restroom. We have housed many things there (some of my fondest family memories). My father instructed me to grab a shopping cart - I obliged. He yelled about me being too slow. I ran and hurried to get the cart to daddio. He tossed Brady down into the cart and missed. He overshot. Brady's brain hit the concrete but he was chill. I picked him up and placed him inside the cart. We then travelled along the aisles. I got a bunch of stuff like some brisket and Beaver Nuggets and Sea Salted Caramel Beaver Nuggets and White Cheddar Buccees Nuggies and Assorted Sour Fruit and some Bohemian Garlic Recipe Beef Jerky and some Cherry Sours and Buccees 12 Flavor Gummi Bears and Bucess BBQ SAUCE and some Blue Gummi Sharks and a lot of Buccees Bars and Classic Trail Mix and Bashew Branberry and Brail Brix and Bucees Nutty Bites and Bucees Peanuts and Chocolate Covered Almonds and Deluxe Mixed Nuts and Snail Batch Honey Glazed Pecans and 4 12 packs of red stripe and a Modelo Tall Boy and Pecan Log and Omega Trail Mix and Cluster Snacks and Burnt Peanuts and Buccees Pecan Trio Milk Chocolate White Fudge and Honey Glazed Pecans and Milk Chocolate Coconut Almonds and Milk Chocolate Pecans and Salted Caramel Churro Cashews and Sweet Coated Peanuts and Big Reds and Dr Pepper and Mexican Coca Cola and Arnold Palmer and Vanilla Shake and Chocolate Shake and about 14 Fiji Waters and 10 custom soda creations (1. Cherry coke with vanilla coke 2. Diet coke with Mr. Pibb 3. Mountain Dew with Diet Mountain Dew 4. Suicide of all flavors 5. Diet Suicide 6. Full Sugar Suicide with extra Dr. Pibb 7. Big Red with Coke Zero 8. Pepsi and Coke 9. Big Red with purple soda 10. Every fruit soda together for a drink I like to call FRUIT SMOOTHIE) as well as some fresh food like a chicken ceasar salad and 3 different snack cup varieties (I forget what they were my dad and I ate them in the bathroom together whilst my mom cried with Brady) (Side note - We left the bathroom and our shopping cart was gone. We had so much stuff at this point that Brady was covered up with various foods and snacks and drinks. Our mother tried to escape my father with Brady but failed and we caught up to her in the alcohol section haha. Anyways) and we didn't get anything else past those snack cups. I got Reeses cups at the cash register actually. Anyways, we took Brady outside and fed him some brisket which was his favorite meal. My dad had tried to use Brady's jaw to chew the brisket, but it didn't really work. My mom at the same time was chewing up as much as she could, and then baby birded it into his mouth. I had a newfound respect for her. We waited until the guy who yells about the brisket being chopped got off work and took a photo of Brady alongside the brisket chef. That is going to be the photo that the newspaper uses for the obituary and will stand very largely printed alongside his casket at his funeral. We made a large commotion on the way out and didn't end up paying for anything. We then went home after my father had a similarly hard time as before with getting Brady into the truck's bed. He tossed the snacks and food into the bed too. I saw it all bounce off Brady. The food wasn't really sealed properly so it all fell out on top of his body too. My dad then threw the drinks on top which hit Brady really hard. The cans at least. My signature drink creations splashed onto Brady and covered him in a sugary bath. He looked angelic. My mom spent this entire time trying to enter the truck and crying about Brady (she saw him get covered in bruises from thrown foods) and finally crawled in BEFORE dad for once HAHA!

    The house stood still. More than just Brady apparently died. My parents marriage, my father's corolla, the happiness of both of my parents among other things were all lost today. The happiness in this house as well was lost. This home was fractured. Like my burn wounds, I only let this pain affect me for an instant. My parents stormed into the house and fell into the bottle. I fell into my tablet and unlimited internet time. Alongside this, I also have stolen many red stripe beers from my dad. I didn't need them to cope with the news of Brady's death. I drank them for the thrill of it. To chase my dragon. I drank 7 red stripes so far. I have turned on autocorrect, so my spelling is pretty recognizable even now! I am however fading in and out of consciousness. I have written this post over the course of 12 hours of continuous drinking followed by spurts of unconsciousness. To conclude this wild day, I have gained infinite internet as well as the new status as an only child with divorced parents and my dad got a new truck. I'm playing temple run whenever I gain consciousness sometimes too instead of blogging it's real fun. To all my Legumies, just remember that with the closing of one door (AKA DEATH OF BRADY AND PARENTS DIVORCE DUE TO ME) leads to many new doors opening up. I'm gonna be signing off. Chris Newman and Dark Mike the Ball Licker, kill yourselves to spare yourself the fiery death you will soon face at the hands of DONALD TRUMP!