Who Are These People?

We had a very bad day today.

We (us, you know, Tubbo & Dubba Tubba, remember?) were in the den watching Simpson’s reruns, when we realized we were bored, which was a very delayed reaction as it took us about 10 episodes to come to that conclusion.  We thought about what we could do, when finally we came to a good idea- child hunting.  Of course, child hunting with M16’s and above was outlawed in Australia way back in the 1850’s, but  we Tubbo’s were never much for these so-called “laws”, so we grabbed the equipment, hi-jacked an abandoned car (Bill, our dad, would never let us borrow his), and set off for some big-game child hunting.

Ok, we think we may need a little background info right about here.  Although we were a little bored, so far our day was going reasonably well, and being bored is nothing new nothing new (pardon the pun, poops).  The sun was shining over the Australian field.  It was that beautiful time in between the afternoon and the evening (we like to call it the Twilight-Zone), and the sweet song of a cockadoo could be heard from the distance.  Speaking of “cockadoo’s”, we don’t know if the bird we heard was a cockadoo or a blue jay, as we aren’t nerds who know that type of thing, but we wanted to type the word cockadoo, so deal with it.  Anyway, it was very serene as we set out.  Unfortunately, everything went down hill from there.  Bum bum bum!

We we’re about half-way to the playground, where we can usually get plenty of easy kills right away, when our car started making some funny noises.  We were a little suspicious, but we passed it off as nothing and kept driving.  After a few minutes, flames started leaping from the exhaust pipe and little explosions could be heard from under the hood, but we figured it was because we just flipped through gears and ignored it.  Finally, when the windows started melting, we decided we should pull over.

Unfortuantly, the land between the playground and our multi-million acreage and mansion is fairly uninhabited except for the occasional hillbilly infestation, which is worth about 20 wild lions and an agitated rhino.  And of course, we drive straight into the biggest den of rednecks you can find.  We pulled over right as a house (and we use the term “house” loosely, as there was no door, the windows were shattered, and they seemed to be missing a wall on the side) came into view.  We immediatly tried to start the car up a again and get the hell out of there, because obviously the car exploding while we’re still in it is less dangerous than the hillbillies seeing us, but it’s too late.  The car stalls and quits on us, and the noise seems to awaken the hillbillies out of a stupidity induced sleep.

They opened the door and came trooping out to see who was making the racket, and then they saw us.  We started to make a move to abandon the car and walk home on foot, but the redneck grabbed us with his incredibly long and gangly arm.  “What yall doing on this here prop-ty?” he asked us.  We tried explaining in extremely small words that we were passing by when our car broke down, but the meaning escaped the redneck, who started having a shouting match with his 60 year old wife over why we were here.

Eventually, the hillbilly figured out that we were stranded out here and needed a “jump”, so he got his car over, did something weird to our engine (that will no doubt have ruined it), and told us “if you’s eva need a ‘and, gimme up a call!”.  Seems like an ok guy, even if he’s a hillbilly, right?  Wrong.  We found out that he had stolen our wallet about ten miles of driving.  No comment on this subject.

So now we have a completely wrecked car, no money, and we’re STILL heading out to go hunting.  We should have decided that this wasn’t a good day, but we ignored our natural Tubbo instincts and kept driving.

About two miles away from the playground, we start to notice loud revving engines behind us.  Figuring that something else is wrong with the car, we pull over so we can walk the rest of the way to the playground.  They we notice that even though we shut the car off, the noises haven’t stopped.  We look behind us and what do we see?  The entire redneck family on motorcycles closing in on us, which is a lot of rednecks, as they seemed to either be having a family reunion 200 kids.  And they don’t look very happy (it looked like they found the mini journal we kept in the wallet they stole, and saw the entry titled “10,000 Reasons Hillbillies Suck“.  We weren’t about to be caught in a situation like that, so taking advantage of the rednecks poor vision, we hid in a nearby brush, but we left all our kid hunting equipment in the stolen car.  The hillbillies, who were randomly carrying torches (as well as pickaxes and shotguns) burned the car, as well as the expensive hunting equipment.  We could do nothing except watch as most of our life savings burned away in front of our eyes for fear of getting burned with it.

After they left, we finally got to the hunting place (on foot), and rented some weapons to hunt with from the nearby black-market (and we were forced to pay for it with stolen money too), and  guess how many kills we got?  Zero.  We’re actually serious, not just saying this so we don’t get the electric chair.  What a waste of a day!  So we were forced to call Bill to pick us up, who grounded us for theft, trashing a car, participating in an illegal sport, and attempted murder.  And we never got the money the hillbillies stole back, nor the expensive child hunting equipment.

All in all, it wasn’t the best of days. And if you thought THIS was bad, wait ’till we tell you about tomorrow…

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