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Dog Catcher

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DOG CATCHER

"Good morning!"

Uncle Grandpa's eyes snapped open as the words burst out of his lips, and he happily hopped out of his race car bed on his way to start a brand new day. He tore off his pajamas, revealing his normal suit of clothes underneath, and strolled out of his room. He took Belly Bag off of the coat rack outside his room and fastened the magical talking fanny pack around his waist.

"Good morning, Belly Bag," Uncle Grandpa said.

"Good morning, Uncle Grandpa!" Belly Bag greeted him.

The pair made their way through the RV. Most of the time, Uncle Grandpa would have taken a more circuitous route, but today, Uncle Grandpa was a man on a mission, a mission that required him to walk forward towards his goal resolutely, and not get drawn away by anything, not even a mysterious foosball table guarded by an evil spirit.

Oh, what the heck, one game couldn't hurt.

"Good morning, mister evil spirit!" Uncle Grandpa said happily.

The evil spirit exhaled. Its' breath smelled of broken dreams, swamp gas, tortured children, and ketchup.

Uncle Grandpa inhaled the scent and smacked his lips. "Mmm, ketchup. So, whatcha got there? A little...game of foosball, eh?"

The evil spirit exhaled again.

"I dunno," Uncle Grandpa said. "I really should be on my way."

The evil spirit exhaled and held up the ball.

"Enh, you're right," Uncle Grandpa said. "What could one game hurt?"

The spirit dropped the ball onto the table, and the game was on. Although the evil spirit quickly sent three goals sizzling through, it was then that Uncle Grandpa sprouted a third arm from his nose and was able to control three of the four sticks at once. With this advantage, Uncle Grandpa slowly narrowed the gap as they traded goals until eventually they were tied at nine-all. The game grew tense at this point, with the evil spirit and Uncle Grandpa concentrating hard as they battled until eventually, a stray shot from midfield started rolling towards Uncle Grandpa's goal.

"Belly Bag!" Uncle Grandpa cried. "Help me!"

"I'm on it!" the bag declared. He leapt off of Uncle Grandpa's midsection, grabbed the goalie stick, and spun it around viciously. The goalie made contact with the ball, and it popped up into the air, bounced off the back of the evil spirit's goalie's head, and fell into the goal. The evil spirit let out a terrifying shriek as it condensed into nothingness and disappeared.

"Great job, Belly Bag!" Uncle Grandpa said as Belly Bag refastened himself around his waist. "Now, what were we doing again?"

"Beats me," Belly Bag said, shrugging. "I'm just along for the ride!"

Uncle Grandpa chuckled. "You're great, Belly Bag. But–oh!"

Uncle Grandpa set off again, resolution written on his face.

"Good morning!" he said cheerfully as he passed a disco-dancing chupacabra.

The chupacabra chittered back but didn't cease its discoing.

"Good morning!" he greeted Pizza Steve.

"Enh," said Pizza Steve, lazily lifting one hand.

"Pizza Steve's so cool," Uncle Grandpa whispered.

"If you say so," Belly Bag replied.

"Good morning!" Uncle Grandpa said to a mustachioed madman.

The madman cackled maniacally.

Finally, Uncle Grandpa reached the front of the RV, where Mr. Gus was driving.

"Hey, Mr. Gus!" Uncle Grandpa said cheerfully. "How's my favorite dinosaur today?"

"Doin' fine, Uncle Grandpa," Mr. Gus said happily. "How about you?"

"I'm looking for peanut butter," Uncle Grandpa said. "You know where it is?"

Mr. Gus hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "Try the kitchen."

"Thanks, Mr. Gus!" Uncle Grandpa said happily.

Uncle Grandpa reached his arm out towards the kitchen. It stretched, and stretched, and stretched, until it finally reached the peanut butter. Once Uncle Grandpa got ahold of it, his arm snapped back like a rubber band, sending the jar of peanut butter into the windshield. The windshield shattered, and the jar of peanut butter sailed down the road.

"Oh, no!" Uncle Grandpa exclaimed. "My peanut butter!"

Uncle Grandpa leaped through the shattered windshield in order to chase after his breakfast.

Chapter Text

"Loser!"

"You suck!"

"You couldn't catch a cold!"

A miserable boy stood on a baseball field, surrounded by children of the same age, all of whom were heckling him. He had brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, was of average height and weight, and had incredibly thick glasses.

"C'mon, guys," he whined. "I can catch! Just give me another chance, please!"

A peanut butter jar flew into his face, knocking him unconscious. The boy hit the ground hard to the sound of laughter from the other kids. After a bit, they stopped laughing.

"So what should we do now?" a girl asked.

"Let's go make fun of someone else for their perceived shortcomings!" a boy declared.

The other kids cheered and left. Uncle Grandpa walked up, scooped up the peanut butter jar, and began eating directly from it. Eventually, the boy stirred.

"Hey, Bruce!" Uncle Grandpa said happily. "What's going on?"

Bruce sighed as he moved into a sitting position. "Not much. Wait. Who are you?"

"I'm your Uncle Grandpa!" Uncle Grandpa said happily.

"My...uncle grandpa?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah!" Uncle Grandpa said. "I'm your uncle, and your grandpa!"

"At the...same time?" Bruce questioned.

"At the same time!" Uncle Grandpa said. "Also, I'm totally magic."

Bruce shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I've met both my grandpas."

"Ah, but I'm not your grandpa," Uncle Grandpa said wisely. "I'm your Uncle Grandpa! Totally different. I travel around the world and help kids with their problems. Also, I've got a bunch of cool friends, like Belly Bag."

"Hi!" Belly Bag chirped.

"...okay," Bruce said.

"So, Bruce, what's got you down?" Uncle Grandpa asked.

"Well...I can't catch," Bruce explained. "Like, at all! I put my hands up, but I always drop the ball, or miss the ball, or whatever! I couldn't even catch a jar of peanut butter when it slammed into my face! I think it gave me a black eye."

Uncle Grandpa looked down at his jar of peanut butter and slowly hid it behind his back.

"And because I can't catch, everybody thinks I'm a total loser!" Bruce continued.

"Hold on a sec," Uncle Grandpa said. He leaned down and examined Bruce's face. "Hmm. Hmm. Uh-huh...uh-huh...mm-hmm...uh-huh...yeah, that's a shiner, all right."

Bruce's shoulders sagged. "Aw. My mom's going to be so–"

"But I've got good news, Bruce!" Uncle Grandpa declared. "Because I'm gonna take you to the best ball catcher I know! After a bit of time with him, you'll be catching all the balls! No matter what anyone throws your way, you're gonna catch it! Now are you ready?"

Bruce looked uncomfortable. "Gee, Uncle Grandpa, I don't–"

"Good!" Uncle Grandpa said. "Because you're gonna learn how to catch!"

Chapter Text

In an average suburb, behind an average house, was an average backyard with a dog, a tree, and incredibly green grass. The dog had light brown fur, and was jumping around happily as he barked at the two newcomers that were standing on his lawn.

"The greatest catcher of all time lives here?" Bruce asked.

"You're looking at him," Uncle Grandpa said proudly.

Bruce looked around the yard. Eventually, his gaze settled back on Uncle Grandpa.

"You?" he asked.

Uncle Grandpa laughed. "I wish! No, this is Charlie Burgers, and he's great when it comes to catching balls!"

"Hi," the dog said. "I'm Charlie Burgers, this is my yard, I know Uncle Grandpa but I don't know you, bark bark bark bark bark!"

"Oh, right," Uncle Grandpa said. "This is Bruce!"

Charlie Burgers sniffed Bruce and licked his hand.

"We're here because, uh–" Uncle Grandpa leaned in to whisper into Charlie Burgers's ear. "He doesn't know how to catch."

Charlie Burgers's eyes bulged out. "Doesn't know how to catch? That's terrible!"

"I know!" Uncle Grandpa agreed. "That's why you've gotta teach him what to do!"

Charlie Burgers looked nervous. "I dunno. I've uh, I've never actually, you know, um...taught anyone how to catch."

"But Charlie Burgers!" Uncle Grandpa protested. "You're the best ball-catcher, like, ever! You've gotta help us, you've just got to!"

"Well, I can give it a shot..." Charlie Burgers said hesitantly.

"Yay!" Uncle Grandpa cheered.

Charlie Burgers walked over to Bruce and looked him over. He then proceeded to perform a sniff test, to lick his hand again, and finally, to bark loudly at him. When Charlie started barking, Bruce stumbled back, shocked.

"Ah, you flinched," Charlie said. "You can't flinch. If you flinch when a ball is coming towards you, you'll never catch it! Never!"

"But you were barking," Bruce protested. "That's not the same as a ball coming at me."

"You can't flinch!" Charlie said. "You can't. You can't! Now catch!"

Uncle Grandpa threw a ball to Bruce. Bruce put his hands up, and the ball clanged off of them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Charlie asked.

"I know, I can't catch!" Bruce said.

"Of course you can't! You're using your paws!" Charlie said. "You gotta catch balls the right way. The normal way."

"You mean...with my mouth?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah! That's how you catch a ball," Charlie said. "Catch it in your mouth!"

"But I'm not a dog!" Bruce said. "I can't catch a ball with my mouth!"

"Bark bark bark, woof woof, bark bark bark!" Charlie barked loudly.

"Okay, okay!" Bruce said. "I'll try to catch with my mouth!"

Uncle Grandpa threw a tennis ball to Bruce. Gingerly, Bruce went after it with his mouth and managed to grab it and not drop it.

"You did it!" Uncle Grandpa cheered.

Bruce spat the ball out. "I did?"

"You did, kid," Charlie said. "Wanna try again?"

"I...I do," Bruce decided.

Uncle Grandpa threw more balls Bruce's way. For each ball, Bruce went after it and grabbed it in his mouth. Soon, they ran out of tennis balls, and Uncle Grandpa began throwing baseballs, softballs, golf balls, footballs, basketballs, medicine balls. It didn't matter what he threw, or where he threw it: if Bruce could reach the ball with his mouth, he could catch it.

After about an hour of practice, Bruce spat out the last ball Uncle Grandpa had and collapsed on the lawn, panting heavily. Charlie and Uncle Grandpa looked down at him proudly.

"Well, Bruce, I think it's time for you to do what you've always wanted," Uncle Grandpa said.

Bruce looked at him, confused. "Be an internationally renowned fashion model?"

Uncle Grandpa laughed. "Maybe later. No. Now it's time to show those kids what's what!"

Chapter Text

Uncle Grandpa strode steadfastly through a public park, Bruce tagging along behind him. The grass was in full bloom, with the heat of summer all around but not oppressive and the air smelling of foliage in bloom. The duo were headed towards a basketball court where several kids had gathered.

"Uncle Grandpa, are you sure about this?" Bruce asked worriedly.

"Of course I am!" Uncle Grandpa said. "They're gonna be so happy to see that you've learned how to catch! It's gonna be awesome!"

"I dunno, Uncle Grandpa," Bruce said. "I don't think they're gonna believe me."

"Well then you'll just have to make them believe you," Uncle Grandpa said.

Uncle Grandpa walked up to the kids and waved. "Hi, guys!"

The one with the ball stopped and looked over at him. "Oh hey, Uncle Grandpa. What's up?"

"Have you guys met my friend Bruce?" Uncle Grandpa asked, putting his arm around Bruce's shoulders and pulling him close.

"What, that guy?" a blonde-haired girl said mockingly. "He's a total klutz."

"Yeah," a dark-skinned boy said. "He can't catch anything."

"Oh yeah?" Uncle Grandpa asked. "Just try him."

"I'll try him, all right," a white boy with brown hair said. "Catch this!"

The boy hurled a baseball at Bruce's head as hard as he could. Bruce opened his mouth and caught the ball with his teeth. The kids stood there for a few seconds, silenced, until the boy who threw the ball began laughing.

"You catch like a dog!" he mocked.

"Yeah!" Uncle Grandpa said excitedly. "Isn't that great?"

"And I thought you were a loser before!" the boy said, ignoring him. "Man, you just get more and more lame!"

"Oh yeah?" Uncle Grandpa said angrily. "We'll show you! We'll prove that Bruce is a great ball catcher in a game of baseball!"

"You're on!" the boy said. "See you in loserville, Brucey!"

The kids started to head off, but the boy who had challenged them stopped and jogged back.

"You're still coming to my birthday party, right, Uncle Grandpa?" he asked hopefully.

Uncle Grandpa smiled. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Jeff!"

"Cool," Jeff said.

Jeff rejoined his friends. Bruce's shoulders slumped.

"Thanks a lot, Uncle Grandpa," he said bitterly.

"No problem, Bruce," Uncle Grandpa said. "Now you can prove yourself once and for all!"

Bruce glared at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, why–" Uncle Grandpa started to say.

"That was the school's baseball team!" Bruce said angrily. "You just challenged me to take on the school's baseball team, and you think I can beat them? I catch like a dog! I'm gonna look like a fool, and lose miserably, and it's all thanks to you, Uncle Grandpa! I don't have a team, I can't catch–you've messed everything up, Uncle Grandpa!"

"Or have I?" Uncle Grandpa asked smugly.

"Yes! You have!" Bruce exclaimed.

"Or have I?" Uncle Grandpa asked, still smug.

"You did!"

Uncle Grandpa put an arm around Bruce's shoulders. "Bruce, what if I told you that you can beat those guys?"

"Yeah, right," Bruce said angrily. He paused to think about it. "How?"

"With the help of the greatest baseball team ever assembled, my friend," Uncle Grandpa said. "That's how."

Chapter Text

It was sundown at a small baseball field, and both teams had gathered in the dugouts. Although there was no crowd, there was a palpable sense of excitement among both teams. Nowhere was this sense stronger than in the dugout of the away team, where Uncle Grandpa had gathered the greatest baseball team to ever play.

"Alright, guys," Uncle Grandpa said. "This is probably the most important game you'll ever play. I know it's not a championship or anything, but one boy's heart, and soul, and uh, and uh, yeah, his respect from his peers, all of that is on the line today. I know you can come through! For Bruce! Wouldn't you agree, Bruce?"

Bruce looked around, confused. "This is the greatest baseball team ever?"

Uncle Grandpa's team consisted of seven other players: Pizza Steve, in left field; Mr. Gus, at catcher; Giant Realistic Flying Tiger, shortstop; Frankenstein, at first base; Belly Bag, at second; Tiny Miracle, the right fielder; and Nolan Arenado as the third baseman. The lineup was rounded out by Uncle Grandpa on the mound and Bruce in centerfield.

"Oh, heck no!" Uncle Grandpa said happily. "We couldn't afford the cost of all those cameos and guest stars! So instead, we settled for a bunch of my friends and one guest star."

Nolan waved. "Hey."

"So whaddaya think, Bruce?" Uncle Grandpa asked.

Bruce looked over the team again. "Are you sure we can win this?"

"Don't worry, Bruce," Mr. Gus said. "I can hit the long ball, and parts of this team are pretty solid."

"What are you insinuating?" Nolan asked. "I'm a four-time All-Star, six-time Gold Glove winner, and a three-time Silver Slugger! I'm definitely solid."

"I wasn't talking about you," Mr. Gus said, casting a glance at Pizza Steve.

A gigantic eagle descended from the sky and landed on the pitcher's mound. It hacked up a pellet.

"This is it!" Uncle Grandpa said excitedly. "The game's about to start!"

The eagle began singing the national anthem.


As the home team, Jeff's team was the first one in the field. The first one up to bat was Pizza Steve, who swung blindly at three pitches and struck out.

"It's okay, Pizza Steve," Uncle Grandpa said. "You'll get it next time!"

Mr. Gus cast a disgruntled look at Pizza Steve as he headed for the on-deck circle. "Next time, just draw a walk."


Bruce came up as the second batter and failed to get a hit, but after that Mr. Gus hit a double and Nolan Arenado slammed a home run out of the park. Frankenstein then struck out when all of his swings were five seconds late, ending their half of the inning.


Uncle Grandpa threw three strikeouts in a row, bringing Bruce's side back up to bat.


Uncle Grandpa came up with two outs and Giant Realistic Flying Tiger on first. He proceeded to hit the ball into outer space.


After throwing two strikeouts, Uncle Grandpa faltered, walking a pair of batters. He then managed to work the next batter into a full count, but she swung and hit the ball directly to Bruce. Bruce put his hands up to catch the ball, and it clattered off his hands. By the time he got the ball back to the infield, two runners had crossed the plate and Claire was standing on second base.


Nobody managed to get a hit in the top of the third inning except for Nolan, who hit another home run to make the score 5-2.


In the bottom of the fourth, with the score still 5-2, three batters in a row hit the ball into centerfield. Each time, the ball bounced off of Bruce's hands. Uncle Grandpa managed to get two infield flies, but that was when Jeff came up and hit the ball into deep left field for a homer, giving his team the lead.


Uncle Grandpa hit a pop fly that took so long to come down that he had already crossed the plate by the time it came back down. Unfortunately, the first baseman (Keisha) was ready for it, and snagged the ball for an out.


Uncle Grandpa pitched a perfect bottom of the fifth to bring his team back up to bat.


Mr. Gus hit a homer to tie the game in the top of the sixth. He was followed in the lineup by Nolan, who smashed another homer to give Bruce's team a one-run lead at 7-6.


With two outs in the bottom of the sixth, Laura smashed the ball to left field. Pizza Steve got in the way of its descent, though, and his cheese stuck to the ball for the third out. Although he was injured and his shades were broken, Pizza Steve managed to give a thumbs-up to the crowd as Jeff's team took the field again.


Uncle Grandpa came up to bat with one out and bunted. He then proceeded to stretch his legs and touch all the bases for a home run.


Bruce came up with two outs in the top of the seventh and managed to get a hit. This brought up Mr. Gus, who slammed a double to put him on third. Jeff proceeded to intentionally walk Nolan, loading the bases, and Frankenstein came up. This time, he managed to get a swing off in time, and the ball bounced over the fence for a ground-rule double to put Bruce's team up 10-6. Belly Bag then came up to bat and struck out looking, largely because he didn't have any eyes.


In the bottom of the seventh, Jeff managed to draw a walk. The next two batters hit balls to centerfield, where Bruce dropped them. Luckily, this only cost Bruce's team two runs, and they managed to get out of the inning still up 10-8.


In the top of the eighth, Bruce's team went down 1-2-3, with the third out being Uncle Grandpa, who struck out while distracted by a particularly interesting butterfly.


With two outs in the top of the ninth, Mr. Gus hit a deep fly ball to center that the centerfielder, Jerry, managed to grab against the fence, ending the inning.


With two outs, Uncle Grandpa walked Jerry. Keisha, the next batter up, hit a ball that bounced in front of Pizza Steve and over his head, sailing over the fence for a ground rule double. This put Jerry and Keisha in scoring position with Jeff coming up to bat. It was at this point that Uncle Grandpa called timeout and waved the entire team over the mound.

Bruce was the last to reach the mound, and he entered a sea of mumbled conversations. All of these conversations ceased when Uncle Grandpa turned to Bruce.

"Quite a game, isn't it?" Uncle Grandpa asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," Bruce muttered awkwardly. "Quite a game."

"So, Bruce," Uncle Grandpa said. "You ready to win this?"

"Win this?" Bruce asked, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Uncle Grandpa, I–I can't catch!"

"Nonsense!" Uncle Grandpa boomed. "I saw you catch plenty when we were with Charlie Burgers!"

"But–but that was with my mouth!" Bruce said. "I can't, I can't do it when...you know, normally?"

Uncle Grandpa chuckled. "Bruce, when have I ever been the type to do anything normally?"

"I...don't know," Bruce admitted.

"That's right!" Uncle Grandpa said. "There's a right way to do things, and a wrong way to do things. And, there's the Uncle Grandpa way of doing things!"

"Is the Uncle Grandpa way the right way?" Bruce asked.

"Nope!" Uncle Grandpa said cheerfully.

"Then...it's the wrong way?" Bruce guessed.

"Nope!" Uncle Grandpa replied.

"So, it's–"

"The Uncle Grandpa way!" Uncle Grandpa said. "So maybe you can't catch the right way. So what? So long as you can catch, that's good enough. Now are you ready to catch?"

Bruce nodded, a smile unfurling across his face.

"Are you ready to win?" Uncle Grandpa asked.

"Yes!" Bruce said excitedly.

"Then let's go out there and win one for the Uncle Grandpa, and the Charlie Burgers, and for Bruce!" Uncle Grandpa said.

The entire team cheered and retook their positions. Uncle Grandpa stared down Jeff as he readied himself at the plate.

And then, he threw a fastball right down the middle of the plate. Jeff took a hefty swing at the ball, smacking it to deep center. Bruce raced after the ball, and they closed on each other. The ball looked like it would just barely make it over the fence–

Until Bruce leaped into the air, putting his head in harm's way–

And opened his mouth–

And grabbed the ball in his mouth.

Bruce came down with the ball held in place by his teeth, ending the game at 10-8.


The rest of the team let out a cheer and raced over to Bruce.

"I knew you could do it!" Uncle Grandpa said happily. "Great job, Bruce! You learned how to catch, and you managed to win the game!"

"Nice job, kid," Pizza Steve agreed. "Keep that up, and you could be almost as cool as Pizza Steve one day."

"It's all about effort and doing your best, no matter what," Nolan added.

Mr. Gus looked at him quizzically. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing," Nolan admitted. "It's just one of those lines sports stars are supposed to spout whenever they appear in a cartoon."

Someone cleared their throat. The team parted to let Jeff through, and he walked up to Bruce.

"Good–good game," he said gruffly. "I guess you really can catch."

They shook hands.

"Now I'm gonna go make someone else feel bad about themselves," Jeff said. "Bye."

Jeff trotted off. Bruce spit out the ball and turned to Uncle Grandpa with a huge smile on his face.

"Thanks, Uncle Grandpa," he said. "For everything."

"Anything to help a kid in need," Uncle Grandpa said.

They grinned at each other. Bruce's teeth shattered and fell out of his mouth.

Chapter Text

SHORT: EYE CONTACT

Uncle Grandpa was walking along happily against a white background. Suddenly, the white background ended, replaced with a black background. Uncle Grandpa walked into the background, but stopped after a few seconds.

"Something's not right here..." he said to himself.

Suddenly, pink walls came from above and below and slammed into him. They went away, leaving Uncle Grandpa floating in the middle of the black background, before coming back again. Uncle Grandpa screamed in pain as the pink walls slammed into him repeatedly.


Mr. Gus walked up to Uncle Grandpa, who was blinking his left eye furiously.

"Hey Uncle Grandpa. What's going on?" he asked.

"I've got something in my eye!" Uncle Grandpa complained.

In the background, the sounds of Uncle Grandpa screaming could be heard as Uncle Grandpa continued winking his left eye to try and clear it.

Chapter Text

SHORT: NEW EXPERIENCES WITH BEARY NICE

"That's me!" Beary Nice said cheerfully.

AND HOT DOG PERSON

"That's me," Hot Dog Person said, sounding depressed.

TODAY'S EXPERIENCE: COW TIPPING

Beary Nice and Hot Dog Person stood in the middle of a large pasture where several cows were grazing.

"Wow!" Beary Nice said, sounding impressed. "I've never tipped a cow before! Have you, Hot Dog Person?"

"What's that?" Hot Dog Person asked.

"It's where you go up to a cow, and make loud noises, and it tips over!" Beary Nice said. "It's supposed to be beary nice. Wait, that's me!"

"So we just go up to a cow and make loud noises?" Hot Dog Person asked.

"Yes!" Beary Nice said excitedly.

Hot Dog Person took a step towards the cow in front of them, but Beary Nice put out a hand to stop him.

"Silly Hot Dog Person, that's my cow! Yours is over there."

Beary Nice pointed to a cow with horns grazing grumpily on top of a hill. Hot Dog Person looked at it nervously.

"Are you sure about this, Beary?" Hot Dog Person asked.

"It has horns! That must mean it's super tippable!" Beary said cheerfully. "Go on and tip it!"

Hot Dog Person wandered over to the bull. Behind him, Beary began making noises at a cow, which ignored him and continued to graze. Suddenly, Hot Dog Person stepped on a twig, and the bull's head snapped up, instantly attentive.

"Um," Hot Dog Person said nervously. "Hi?"

The bull snorted, pawed the ground, and charged at Hot Dog Person.

"AAAAAAHHHHH!" Hot Dog Person screamed, just as the bull gored him, sending him flying. Hot Dog Person flew through the air and hit the ground hard. He got to his knees, groaning, just in time to get hit by another blow from the bull and get sent flying again.


"Boo!" Beary Nice said happily. He chuckled as the cow in front of him rolled its eyes. Behind him, Hot Dog Person continued to get tossed around like a ragdoll by the angry bull.


Hot Dog Person landed hard again and didn't even bother to try getting up. It didn't matter, since the bull lowered its horns and gored him again, sending him flying full-force into a tree trunk. Hot Dog Person groaned, but his eyes widened when he heard the sound of cracking wood.

"Oh no..." Hot Dog Person whimpered.

The tree started to tip over, but then stopped and fell back the other way, crushing Hot Dog Person against the ground. Slowly, it rolled over, completing a full turn and crushing Hot Dog Person again. It continued to roll, picking up speed as it headed down a hill until it was going incredibly fast towards a pile of TNT at the bottom of the hill.

When the tree hit the TNT, a massive explosion occurred, sending a burning Hot Dog Person flying. He screamed as he descended into a field of cacti. Luckily for him, he didn't land on a cactus. Instead, he came down on a trampoline in the middle of the field, which sent him soaring all the way into outer space.

Hot Dog Person floated in nothingness for a few seconds, just long enough for the flames to fizzle out. Then, he began descending again. Hot Dog Person screamed as he fell, in part from sheer panic but mostly because reentry had set him aflame again. He landed on the same trampoline, which once again flung him skyward, but this time Hot Dog Person slammed into the bottom of a jet. As he fell to earth, the engines on the jet began to falter.

Hot Dog Person landed heavily in a field of wheat. He groaned softly.

"Well," he said slowly, "at least that's over."

Suddenly, his eyes widened as he heard the sound of an engine. Before he could move, a tractor ran him over, sending chunks of Hot Dog Person flying through the air.


"It's another sad day at Madison Square Garden," the announcer said to an arena full of bored and unhappy basketball fans. "Sad, because the Knicks stink! With five seconds to go, they trail the Golden State Warriors 150 to 12, and let me tell you they deserve every bit of this beatdown! They couldn't beat a team of kindergarteners with the type of fight they show! I'd be surprised if they win another game this year!"

As soon as the announcer finished his rant, Hot Dog Person's chunks crashed through the roof and fell through the hoop the Warriors were defending. The Golden State players could only stare in astonishment as the chunks went through the hoop and splattered on the floor. When it all was over, the buzzer blared.

"I–I–I don't believe it," the announcer said, astonished. "Somehow, the Knicks have pulled off the comeback to win, 418-150! It's an amazing comeback for the Knicks! New York wins! New York wins!"

Madison Square Garden burst into rapturous applause. The audience got to their feet and swarmed the court, carrying off the basketball players, coaches, and waterboys on their shoulders. Soon, the arena was deserted except for the leftovers of Hot Dog Person.

It was then that the plane he had slammed into crashed into the arena.


The sun set over a field of grazing cattle. In the field, Beary Nice continued to make noises at an unamused cow that continued to ignore him. A burned, cut, scratched, bandaged, and scarred Hot Dog Person hobbled up to Beary Nice on a pair of crutches.

"Hi, Hot Dog Person!" Beary Nice said cheerfully. "Did you have fun?"

Hot Dog Person opened his mouth to respond. Before he could, the bull from earlier gored him from behind, sending him flying into a cow. The cow tipped slightly, then overbalanced and fell over directly on top of Hot Dog Person.

"You did it, Hot Dog Person!" Beary Nice said happily. "Your cow tipping is beary nice. Wait, that's me!"

Hot Dog Person's moan was muffled by the girth of the fallen cow. The cow lowed.

"Well, Hot Dog Person, this was a great experience," Beary Nice said. "I love cow tipping!"

Beary Nice grinned.

Chapter Text

SHORT: MY UNCLE GRANDPA THE JET

An airplane with Uncle Grandpa's head on the front of it soared through the sky. Uncle Grandpa looked over towards the reader.

"Remember, it's not just the journey," he said. "It's also the destination."

The Uncle Grandpa jet did a loop-de-loop and soared away, leaving behind a stream of rainbow-colored exhaust.

THE END