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How to Boil a Grampa in 11 Ways (The Adventure) Started by: NeaGan on Dec 04, '18 08:41

Day 1 of Restlessness

Negan's Log

 

Brooklyn is not just a veil of sparkly lights, muffled gunfire, and forgotten dreams. Hmmm yes, Brooklyn is so satisfying right? Anyone can make a name for himself in Brooklyn, and he might be able to discover a paradise worth the lives of many. But gimme a break...I'm not a motivational coach or that sorta shit. I aint here to motivate. I'm here to document a clusterfuck of fucking tales and mind-numbing discoveries. I guess I'm an explorer? Well, yeah. Maybe. For this entry, which I'll be calling 'Notes of Restlessness,' I'll share something beyond humanity's goodness and cruelty combined. Something like that.

So Dale, my good old friend in the Force, told me something about a raid-gone-bad. He and his troops managed to arrest some junkies and local thieves. Wannabes. They were caught in the act, shootin' up, and snickering like crazy. The raid went bad because they found something else...a corpse. Floating in a bathtub, flesh mangled, filled with soupy liquid. The smell? Don't get me started.

"Simmering. They were simmering the poor man." Dale just told me. I almost puke, but I let him carry on.

Beside the bathtub-cum-sick cauldron, Dale's trooper found a small, ragged manual. Nothing fancy, perhaps just a collection of old notes.

Then the title struck me, gut me from the rear up to my throat: How to Boil a Grampa in 11 Ways

Who the fuck makes these things? I smiled when Dale showed me the file. But it's not a smile of happiness. More like a hidden show of curiosity or a smile that a whacker makes before delivering judgment. You get my drift.

I remember Glenn Rhee's mashed brains. I made a red, disgusting pudding outta his brain. Thanks to Lucille. If only he didn't doublecross me, Glenn would've been a part of this Thing of Ours. But yeah...he's just a tale now. And all tales must end.

But this, this boil your grampa in 11 ways thing, this is just the beginning.

"Track the pigs responsible for this vile book," I said to Dale. "I'm curious. Maybe we can boil them instead before they boil other grampas out there."

 

As of this writing, Dale is probably interrogating or torturing those junkies. I presume, as all other beings presume about stuff, we have discovered the first way of boiling a grandpa. Turn him into a stew.

I think the process goes like this:

- Trick the victim to a free meal or somethin

- BAM! to the head...make him unconscious

- Prepare a flesh-melting liquid concoction, drop gramps, and wait

- Heat to fuck-all-degrees-celsius

- Don't forget to mix!

- Let it simmer for days

...and voila...you have a putrid grampa soup! Fuck...

 

Well, I'm done writing. I don't wanna throw up my dinner. I'm on the mission to track down the author of this manual.

Then I'll boil him.

I better prepare for tomorrow.

 

P.S. to myself

- Send a gift of "Arselli's Exquisite Chardonnay" to Boss @Madeline

 

 

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(More notes to follow)

 

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Day 2 of Restlessness

Negan's Log

 

A good dinner can ease the doldrums of your heart. Yes, sir, it does. I just had my fair share of beef casserole topped with eggs, chugged down one bottle of beer, and devoured an apple. Glorious. In a land filled with murder and unwanted deaths, finding time for dinner is a heavenly act. My advice to young hustlers: make time for dinner. Lavish it. Savor it. Make it yer dame.

Barely a motherfakkin hour ago, Dale reported something to me. The junkies we found? They belong to a group or cult or somethin like that. They call themselves, "The Flesh Slurpers of Apocalypso." Like the namesake, these crazies like to slurp flesh and make weird gourmet recipes. They believe that Grandpas taste remarkable. Dale cringed and had the fuckers executed.

Save for one. We call him 'Goatfuck' because he smells like a goat. Probably fucked a goat in the past.

We finally learned about the name of our sinister foe: Apocalypso. Kinda like a club name, right? Right. I ordered Dale to find all trails that will lead us to this...Apocalypso.

Oh, and there's something else...

Another way to boil a Grampa. I can remember Goatfuck's words clearly:

Capture a grampa, should be easy. But don't make him unconscious!!! Smother his body with pepper and Jamaican exotic spices...while restrained of course...then go for the skill. Slash the neck precisely, slowly. He will shiver as the pain overtakes him, making the pepper and spices scatter. Once dead, twist the body before rigor mortis sets in. Put it in the cauldron. Mix and mix and mix. Add more spices. Add potatoes and other chunky veggies. Your choice. Don't add other meat! It will drown the Grampa flavor. Do this for 8 hours, and you have a feast afterwards...

 

Ah, spices. I know a guy who knows this guy who knows this guy who knows this guy's COUSIN who has a small crampy apartment full of spices and dried stuff. Spices on walls, on sink, on doorknobs, on the floor, on the bathroom, heck - spices on his sex-bed while having sex with his 14th mistress. I dunno his real name. But we call him Tong Ling. He claims he is Mandarin. I don't give a fuck. But I'll pay him a visit. Maybe he knows something about Apocalypso.

 

I need a long sleep. This shit's makin' me crazy. :/

 

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