Samsara Junkyard: Small's Potatoes S1E1: "Sanjay's Holy Donuts" #redpilled #antiNWO #surrealfantasy #sciencefiction #paranoidfiction
"Sanjay's Holy Donuts"
by Xylen Roberts
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__LOADING POTATO__
__ENJOY YOUR MEAL :)__
Hello all, and welcome to the first episode of Samsara Junkyard: Small's Potatoes. Isaiah Smalls is an organic farmer from the little island of Saskatchewan. His favorite organic vegetable is the potato: Yes, yes, the potato. Cheap staple of the American diet for many a year, it is consistent and reliable, carrying us both through years of prosperity or poverty, whether we're talkin' the Great Depression of the 30s or New Depression of the 2020s. But Isaiah Smalls ain't just a farmer, he's a prophet, a quoter of Revelations, and can spin a good yarn around the campfire. And tonight is no exception. Let's see what Isaiah is up to, hanging around with his good friends Hyper Dolphin, Plaid The Pimp Tailor, Sanjay the Guru, and others, tellin' tales around the old campfire. Let us begin...
Isaiah Smalls looks up from toasting marshmallows over the fire. "Ohhhhh, well hello there, invisible enemies peerin' at me through drones and chemtrail plans floatin' over my property 24/7 now that we are in this GODFORSAKEN APOCALYPSE! Anyhoo...didn't see ya there! Weelllllllll, you're just in time for another one of my Small's Potatoes: Short standalone stories that are released up here on the old Interwebs...or at least the small little GeoSite-type operations that we members of the true revolution got left anyway! Actually, I kid about the drones and chemtrail planes and whatnot...you see this little neck of the Samsara Junkyard is protected by a supernatural forcefield enhanced by prayer and meditation, so the drones find it hard to get on through it. They just move up upon the forcefield and get stuck, constantly hitting it with a shock, backing up, and trying it again. What can ya do? They are robits after all. Anyhoo, lets get on with it, shall we? This first little yarn I am gonna weave is a little story about you, Sanjay..."
"Oh really? Hare Krishna!" Sanjay exclaims, throwing patriotic confetti in the air with both hands while levitating in a meditation
stance above the campfire. He quickly disappears into thin air, only to re appear again, still hovering above the campfire.
"I never get sick of that trick.' Isaiah says. "But you know one trick I do get sick of? The dirty tricks the government try to play on us patriots all the time. And this story is the tale of one such incident that happened to you not too long ago. Let us begin..."
+++ PART 1
Something rattled Top Gunk the State Gimp's algorithmic brain chip. He had been trained to overlook most quote unquote 'superfluous information' so as to not overload his programming. His internal algorithmic program filtered out all other unnecessary words except for those connected in some way, shape or form to 'crimes'. It mirrored the algorithms that had been used on the Internet across search engines and mainstream websites for several years, fine tuned within the brain itself. And now that everyone was using not only the internet telepathically, but doing everything telepathically these days, it was the logical next step. Like every other pigbot in the NWOCPP, he wasn't very smart, but that was by design. That way, he couldn't challenge whatever increasingly arbitrary, meaningless, oppressive mandate that now passed for 'the law'. He and about 100 other pigbots in various capacities: planes, jets, helicopters, and even government issue motorbikes, were staking out Sanjay's Holy Donuts. The year is 2027. Meditation and prayer have now been outlawed. The reason for this is obvious: To prevent anyone from vibrating higher than on a low level, Luciferian brute animal consciousness. Meditating on a higher vibrational frequency would mean people would start thinking again, which naturally would lead to people challenging the New World Order's plans.
The difference with the pigbots was that their brain chips were turned up to a higher capacity than any other controlled citizen in the so called smart cities. Such a high frequency in fact that it made it virtually impossible to break their military industrial complex conditioning, thus insuring their unbreaking loyalty to the state as mindless insectoid stormtroopers. That is to say, if any of them were smart enough to object to increasingly ridiculous laws such as 'No Natural Chocolate, Punishable By Ten Years Prison Sentence' or 'No Umbrellas On Tuesday' in the first place. The umbrellas thing was a pure exercise in seeing what laws people would follow, no matter how ridiculous. The reason for the 'No umbrellas On Tuesday' law was never explained, really at all, and yet sheep followed it anyway. What a ridiculous site it was to see endless sheep drones shuffling across the smart cities on a Tuesday, getting drenched with no umbrellas. More often than not a certain percentage would get pneumonia and die, partially spurred on by weakened immune systems to do constant vaccines and booster shots, naturally contributing to the elite's sadistic population control schemes. As for the whole chocolate thing...
Real chocolate had been outlawed the previous year. In fact, all organic non GMO foods were gradually being outlawed because they wanted everyone eating their poisonous GMO trash instead. Outlawing chocolate was a hard sell so the Illuminati had to do what they had been doing for the last 20 years or so: create a 'Problem Reaction Solution' sort of event. It went as such:
Professor Pussycat Bitch worked with top scientists out of his lab in Room 213 at The Swollen Vortex. From there, they took natural organic chocolate and experimented on it to such a degree that it mutated way out of its original form and took on hideous sentient life (like all other mutations the Professor had been responsible for). From there, they then unleashed the chocolate blob monster into Tokyo. The chocolate monster grew and grew in size and terrorized Tokyo as if it were a Godzilla monster, life imitating art. 45 thousand people were killed on that fateful day. After that, World President Third Wave Francine gave a press conference: 'It is clear from this disastrous event, organic non GMO chocolate is no longer safe for consumption. So, in order to prevent future incidents like this tragic loss of life in Tokyo, organic chocolate is now outlawed. Only GMO chocolate will be allowed now. If anyone is found with real chocolate, they will be punished with 10 years in a maximum security prison, mmkay?"
This led to the infamous chocolate raids of Summer 2026. Though not one of the chefs and food aficionados involved in the chocolate raids, Sanjay had been secretly using real chocolate. He had a friend at Hershey's Chocolate who made secret batches of real chocolate but distributed it in 'GMO Hersheys' containers. All of Sanjay's ingredients in his donuts were organic---from the caramel to the vanilla frosting to the raspberries---most made from his interdimensional farm located outside of normal time and space in his cloaked 'alter land'. The NWOCPP had suspected the existence of this interdimensional space farm for some time but their cosmic detection grid was currently only testing in BETA. The pigbots at NWOCPP suspected the non-GMO at the Hershey's Chocolate factory in De Moines, Iowa but when they sent in a mole---a literal mole-man created by Professor Pussycat Bitch of course for, well, the purposes of being a figurative mole---he ended up falling in love with a woman who worked there and they eloped to Argentina. The NWOCPP eventually caught up with them and the two lovemoles were quietly 'suicided' by tossing them out of a window, an execution method federal agents from all over the world had been using since at least the 50s.
THE NWOCPP weren't able to prove Sanjay's usage of organic non-gmo ingredients in his holy donuts but they were looking for any kind of in to take him down because Sanjay was a spiritualist, and pigbots HATED spirituality. It was in their DNA, their very programming to hate spiritualists. After all, as previously stated, pigbots permanently undulated on the lowest animal frequency known to humanoid creatures. Pig DNA and robotic circuitry were now a perdurable part of their blood after the transhumanist experiments given to them by Professor Pussycat Bitch that were mandatory for admission into the NWOCPP. So these pigbots were HARD WIRED to hate anything that undulated in a higher frequency range to them: preachers, teachers, artists, musicians, philosophers, and so forth. Basically any form of intelligence, even if it was being used for the same evil ends they were on. If not for the special behavior modification adjustments in their brain chips, pigbots would be routinely attacking their own Machiavellian headmasters. Similarly to the elements of their brain chips that detected certain words, any words remotely connected to 'crimes' irregardless of context, the pigbots also got provoked immediately by any vocal tones that seemed 'too smart' to them. Case in point...
There was one particular incident involving a pre-brain implant pigbot viciously attacking a temp scientist named Rudy Dandruff (nicknamed for his bad scalp hygiene). The pigbot heard Rudy talking about his favorite Tchaikovsky opera one day while Rudy was adjusting the pigbot's built in tiger claws. The word 'Tchaikovsky' immediately sent the pigbot into a rage, almost as if by some sort of MK Ultra trigger word, and the pigbot viciously attacked Rudy's face with his tiger claws. Rudy had to be hospitalized and required facial reconstruction. He was never the same after that. From that point onward, pigbots were kept out of Room 213 until their brain chips could be implemented and fine tuned accurately, and only when the pigbots were completely sedated.
Anyway, back to Sanjay. The NWOCPP knew they couldn't get Sanjay on the chocolate thing but they knew if they kept making things illegal that, like everyone else in the society, they would get him on some new law. Eventually, everyone was going to become a prisoner once everything had been outlawed, and the only free people would've been those 'in the club' naturally. Since meditation had now been outlawed, certain key words attached to meditation automatically triggered a response in the brain chips of the pigbots. Words such as: 'mantra', 'transcendence', 'Ayurveda', 'yoga' etc. Top Gunk listened with his high pulsation earbuds.
Sanjay the Guru sat in Buddha's Holy Donuts, putting a stream of real chocolate into a Bavarian donut. When looking at the donut, he had a cosmic dream about infinity and the concept of God. And how the idea of God was incalculable and stretched far beyond anything the rulers of this sick, broken, samsaric fake world could hope to concieve of. Unanticipatedly , Sanjay started singing something from his childhood, a memory of a mantra his father had taught him. He whistled it at first, and then unconsciously finished the tune: 'Hare Krishna mantraaaaa, Hare Krishna sings his mantraaaaaa.' He stopped. 'One batch of donuts has finished. But another one is about to be created.' The single utterances of 'mantra' were enough to set events in motion.
Top Gunk the State Gimp's piggy sense went off immediately to the point of almost having a convulsion. Not only did the word 'mantra' activate something in his internal monologue, it also jostled him awake, as he was prone to falling asleep on the job like Homer Simpson at Sector 7G. "OHHHHHHHHH WHAT! WHAAAAAAAAAT! 'MANTRA'!!! UHHHHHH KEY WORD SAID!!! KEY WORD MANTRA SAID!!! ACTION COP MODE ACTIVATE!!! SNORT, SNORT, SNORT!!! CALLING ALL UNITS!!! SNORT, SNORT, SNORT!!! THE WORD 'MANTRA' HAS BEEN SPOKEN AT SANJAY's HOLY DONUTS!!! LETS MOVE IN FOR THE SMACKDOWN!!!" Top Gunk screamed. Cyclopean pigbots loved their wrestling terminology. Lets just say these were the sorts of folks who honestly thought wrestling, one of the most obviously fake sports in the world, was genuinely real and bought into the scripted drama. One of the pigbots' favorite off-work past times, other than compulsively and axiomatically playing military industrial complex training video games such as Squall Of Duty, was to watch the 24 hour wrestling broadcasts on the TV network NWOWWN (New World Order Worldwide Wrestling Network). Really all of this made perfect sense: For puppets in a pretend combat based society to engage in equally fake combat based entertainment in their spare time to reinforce their illusory programmed biases. But if you ever tried to enlighten a pigbot to this, you'd get the blank stares of an NPC and the anger of the black dude from They Live, who'd rather fight you than put on the sunglasses of Truth.
As soon as Top Gunk relayed the message, everybody on the stakeout lost their shit immediately, noisily purring their individual engines. The pigbots were each connected mentally to their individual machines of choice to fully immerse them into machine consciousness. It helped make their jobs more effective, like cyborgs.
Top Gunk's fellow pigbot mutant brother, Hogg Mild, heard the message and started doing a Little Miss Piggy hopscotch. Hogg Mild's original name was Stewart, and he was a big fan of moronic anti-second amendment psyop agent David Hogg, so he adopted the name Hogg Mild when he made his complete transhumanist transition. Stewart was a mild mannered taxman until he made the transition, and routinely worked with the literal floating buttmonsters at the IRS, so Hogg Mild was also a symbolic choice of words. Because unlike a true motorbike riding outlaw, he was instead a mind controlled mild idiot. As soon as he underwent the upgrades, he went from mild mannered SJW accountant to big dumb cyborg goon overnight. The combination of his former SJW self and his current goon mind made for a deadly combo. So as soon as he heard the word 'mantra' from his brother Top Gunk, he started revving his engine senselessly like some sort of bug pest with bike parts: 'VROOOOM! VROOOOOOM! VROOM VROOOM VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" It reflected his inner monologue, almost as if his mind had been lobotomized and replaced with a motorcycle engine, because, in effect, it had been. Only it was a motorbike program loaded onto his brain implant. 'VROOOM VROOOM VROOOM! THE WORD 'MANTRA' WAS SAID, THAT RELATES TO MEDITATION!!! VROOOOM VROOOM VROOOOOOOOM! MEDITATION IS ILLEGAL NOW! VROOOOOOOOM! VROOM VROOOM VROOOOOOOM! WE NEED TO LAY THE SMACKDOWN ON THIS ILLEGAL MEDITATOR!!!" Hogg Mild said.
What was so alarming about all of this was the previously stated loss of context: Pigbots weren't trained to be able to distinguish whether a trigger word was actually in support of or against the crime in question. Simply saying the word was enough. Complete fuck ups were a regular occurrence now. GMO compliant food vendors were sometimes raided simply for stating the word 'chocolate'. So much so that it became now standard to call GMO chocolate by its new name: 'CAC106', a numerical shortening of the word cacao. The corrupt elites didn't mind this. It kept the sheep 'on their toes' they would say because it put fear into them.
Hindu dream pop emanated out of Sanjay's speakers. It was a tasteful fusion of shoegazey dream pop with traditional Indian instrumentation and vocals, including sitars and tablas. The music's tranquil loving vibes echoed into Top Gunk's surveillance earphones: "AHHHHHHHHHHH! NO NO NO NO NO NO!!! MUST OFFSET THIS LOVING MUSIC WITH SOME SOCIAL DARWINIST, SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST 'THE STRONG WILL CONSUME THE WEAK' DEVIL METAL!!! MUST...DO...IT...BEFORE...THE GODLY MUSIC...MAKES ME...FEEL ANY OTHER EMOTION...THAN BLIND HATRED TOWARDS ANYONE WHO ISN'T NEW WORLD ORDER APPROVED!!! UGH THE CHRIST CONSCIOUSNESS!!! ARGHHHHH...I FREAKIN HATE IT!!!!" Top Gunk caterwauled at the top of his lungs in his cockpit. He switched on the button labeled: 'Top Gunk's Favorite Executioner's Metal'. It immediately blasted in some menacing blast beats accompanied by screeching hateful guitars and a guy growling:
'CRUSH THE WEAK!!! CONSUME THEIR BLOOD!!! AT THE TOP FOREVER!!! THE ONLY HELL THATS REAL IS A HELL FOR YOU...FROM ME! FROM ME!' the heavy metal song howled. It was 'Consume The Weak', the lead single from Social Darwinist Luciferian heavy metal band Darwin's Pupil. The cover of the album the song originated from, So Much For Your Freedom, showed asinine meathead lead singer Danny Fists with his big stormtrooper boots on the head of a bald eagle with a big AK-47 pointed at the poor creature. Meanwhile, a huge disgusting Chinese Communist flag flew in the background. Top Gunk continued to get pumped up by the song.
"AHHHHHHH, YES!!! THAT's THE GOOD STUFF!!! NOW IF I COULD ONLY LEARN TO TALK WITHOUT SCREAMING EVERYTHING!!!" Top Gunk said. "C'MON TROOPS! LET'S MOVE IN FOR THE KILL!" Top Gunk grabbed his wheel viciously, like choking the neck of a chicken.
"GOTCHA! SNORT SNORT!" Hogg Mild bellowed back at Top Gunk.
"OVER AND OUT, BIG FELLA!" Michael 'Motorfed' Scoffield replied. He and Hogg Mild kicked off the holds on their government issue Harleys simultaneously, and revved off over the hill. This was followed by several tanks, planes and helicopters. To call this 'overkill', especially in handling someone simply engaging in meditation and prayer (or, in this case, simply talking about it) was an understatement. But this was nothing new for the Feds: Overpreparation to the point of complete insanity was the point, the complex symbolism of such most likely lost to the pigbots. The collective noise from all the machines melted into some kind of thoughtless collective insectoid drone, like flies that had been subsumed into the massive heaping pile of dog shit that was their food, merging into one. You are what you eat, they say. And the pigbots' noxious diet of state violence brainwashing, GMO non-food, and vapid entertainment systematically drained of intelligence and meaning had been absorbed into their very soul, or what was left of it. All tied together with a ribbon, reinforced with the implant and some inconsequential accolades from their employers. Catch the dog bone, Fido. Get a promotion.
The pigbots and their various vehicles swarmed on the strip mall where Sanjay's Holy Donuts was located. A little down the ways, the few elderly customers in Eric's Laundromat took notice. "Looks like the feds are gettin' their transhumanist transgender panties in a wad over somethin', Martha." An old man said to his wife. "Wonder what it is this time: A boy singing a song that is too masculine and he has to be taken in for the immediate feminizing of his voice box? Or perhaps someone who wants to avoid the vax to keep both his legs and his health is gonna be made a cripple by these goons instead? You know these feds are worse than the mafia: And equally ready to chop off your limbs to pay a debt. And the American people are up to their eyeballs in debt to China. Lord take me now."
"Well preferably he takes us after I finish my load of laundry. Time to go pay 15 bucks for detergent. Inflation much?" Hyper Dolphin says, right before leaping into a stack of clothes. "Where is that new trucker hat I just purchased? 'Round here somewhere, I know it."
Top Gunk and his goons, all decked out in Swat gear, crept slowly around Holy Donuts. Sanjay was in the back, pulling a new batch of donuts out of the oven to bring to the front. "FIRE!!!!!!!!" Top Gunk screamed. They unload their laser pistols into both windows, smashing them immediately, and kick open the door to the store.
"HOLY DONUTS!" Sanjay exclaims, dropping his batch to the floor. One apple fritter stuck to his right hand.
"DROP THAT DELICIOUS PASTRY OR WE WILL UNLOAD OUR LASERS INTO YOU!!! REPEAT!!! DROP THAT DELICIOUS PASTRY NOW!!!!" Top Gunk yells.
"BE CAREFUL, TOP GUNK! THAT APPLE FRITTER...IT COULD BE A GUN OF SOME SORT!" Hogg Mild cautions loudly.
"IT'S A FREAKIN' DONUT, YOU JACKASS! WHAT'S HE GONNA DO?? SUGARCOAT US TO DEATH???" Motorfed yells back.
"SHUUUUT UP, MOTORFED! OR I'LL TELL MOMMY STATE YOU CONTRADICTED ME!!!" Hogg Mild complains while unleashing a little piss into his adult diaper.
"OH YEAH??? WELL IF YOU DO THAT, I'LL TELL MOMMY STATE YOU'VE BEEN WATCHIN' MILF PORN DURING YOUR LUNCH HOURS!!" Motorfed yells back.
"BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP!" Top Gunk says. Sanjay drops the apple fritter to the ground and puts up his hands. "SANJAY BANERJEE!!! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR ILLEGAL MEDITATION AND PRAYER!! STOP ATTEMPTING TO BETTER YOURSELF SPIRITUALLY AND PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!!!" Gunk screams at Sanjay. Sanjay smiles.
"Unless of course its through state mandated Greyology, right? God forbid we find out who the TRUE God is." Sanjay says.
"Whats that supposed to mean? You gettin' SMART with me, boy?" Top Gunk states aggressively.
"If gettin' SMART with you means using language and ideas not found in your 'Hooked On Phonics For Fedboi Dummies' handbook then I guess so." Sanjay says. Top Gunk develops a twisted smirk on his face. It causes his cyclops eye to contort in an unnatural manor, somehow managing to make himself look even more goblinesque than before. He walks over to Sanjay and strikes him hard in the stomach with the but of his laser gun.
"My apologies, GOD BOY." Top Gunk says, his breath the stale odor of sulphur.
Hogg Mild looks at Sanjay's forehead for a minute. "Why can't we read his mind, boss?" Hogg Mild asks.
"Cuz this CRIMINAL doesn't have the brain implant, either. Either he avoided being forced to get it somehow or somehow removed it, or neutralized it. Doesn't matter. Book him for no implant also, Hogg." Top Gunk says. "...And for being SMART with an officer of NWOCPP. I think its Rule 85 or something. I don't know."
"Duuuuuuuuuuur, whatever you say, boss." Hogg replies back as if caught in an echo chamber for imbeciles. Time goes by slowly as the pigbots comb every inch of Holy Donuts. They send his ingredients off via drone to Quantico to be analyzed for 'organicyness' as they stupidly called it. Enough time goes by that the pigbots start to get hungry. In spite of their all GMO diet, they start to eye the donuts hungrily.
"Look at all these donuts here. Me cop, me like donuts." belched out Hogg Mild.
"I wouldn't touch these donuts with a ten foot pole. Probably contaminated with some of those 'non GMO' ingredients the government keeps warning me about. I'll just stick to my government modified donuts, snort snort fine thank you." Top Gunk belched back. He reached into his stormtrooper suit and pulled out a pink slime donut from a plastic bag, took it out. The pink slime wriggled about on the surface of the donut like a tapeworm, as if taking on some kind of deviant demonic life of its own. Little did Top Gunk know that, like a lot of quote unquote 'food' these days, the pink slime was a parasite that further possessed Gunk's insides and modified his behavior. It was in fact a succubus demon that was causing his nightly lustful dreams and all pink slime the worldwide, which was now a common ingredient in everything from GMO fast food burgers to GMO donut rations for the Army, was engineered for this purpose. To infect people's normal sexuality and pervert it into various obscene forms. But that, as they say, is for another day.
"So what's so holy about these donuts?" Top Gunk belched out again, the pink slime donut worms wriggling through his open mouth. Sanjay gets up from his punch, his stomach aching from the goon's display of barbaric totalitarian idiocy, but feeling the need to persevere and stand up to these moronic bullies nonetheless.
"Well, for most of these non-hole based donuts, nothing. They just taste really good." Sanjay then pointed away from the normal donuts and pointed towards a Raspberry glazed donut with the traditional hole in the middle. "These ones, however...are blessed by the Christ consciousness itself. You stare into the hole and it tells you your future. Sort of like the confectionary version of a looking glass." Sanjay said.
"Confecshawhat?" Hogg Mild asks.
"Like candy ingredients, Hogg Mild." Motorfed says then mutters to himself: 'You jackass.' Even though Motorfed was a complete piece of shit, he wasn't quite as dumb as the pigbots. After all, who could be? They took the CAKE lol.
"So let me get this straight..." Top Gunk coughed out some breadcrumbs and spat onto the floor like some kind of modern NWO cop version of a diseased Harkonnen from the Dune series. "All I have to do is look into the hole of this donut and it tells me my future?" All the pigbots laugh.
"Snort snort give it a try, Top Gunk." Hogg Mild laughed.
"Sure why not...GIMME THAT HOLED DONUT, NON-CLUB PEASANT!" Top Gunk yelled out idiotically.
"So be it. But bear in mind, the donut hole promises to only show you the future, nothing else. Additionally, just like food itself: It feeds the body, it feeds the soul. Whatever energy you have feeds into it and emits it back out." Sanjay said.
"SHUT UP, JUST GIMME THE DAMN DONUT SNORT SNORT!" Top Gunk whooped. He went over to the donut display, knocking over Bavarian Illuminati cream pies, Apple fritters, and similar stuff onto the floor. He grabbed the Raspberry holed donut violently. "SO WHAT NOW???" Top Gunk shouted.
"Look into the center of the hole." Sanjay said.
"Fine, I'll look into the hole." Top Gunk stared into the center of the donut. Stared for a full minute and nothing happened. "I don't see any damned future., I..." A portal started opening up in the center of the donut. It swirled and swirled, gathering up a vortex. "Wait a minute...snort snort...wait a minute...I see something, like some kind of swirly type shape." The vortex started taking on waves of fire and flame. From out of the vortex, screams of the damned could be heard. It disturbed Top Gunk. "What the hell? Do any y'all guys hear that?" Top Gunk asked is fellow pigbots.
"Hear what???" Michael Motorfed exclaimed. "I don't hear shit. Except you being an idiot haha." All the pigbots snorted. Even though Motorfed wasnt one, his laugh took on similar resonances to their snorts.
"NO, Nooooooo, not that, it sounds like...sounds like...something I had forgotten...like, from, what's that word...childhood? Some guy every Sunday told me about this when I was a kid or something." The donut vortex continued swirling frantically, as if opening up a entryway to hell. The voices of the damned grew louder and louder, until the sound was deafening to Top Gunk. The wind started rippling around his stupid pigbot face, and electric shocks were emanating from the portal. "NO NO NOT THAT!!! ANYTHING BUT THAT!!! AHHHHHHHH...." The suction from the portal started sucking Top Gunk in at such a furious force that his very skin was being pulled into the center of the cyclone like his body was made of some sort of elastic fibers. His arm got sucked into the donut hole, somehow shrinking his once muscular arms into a now tiny doll arm stuck inside the infernal opening unnaturally, threatening to drag him down to hell. "DRAG ME OUT GAWDDERNIT!" Top Gunk wailed at his fellow NWOCPP. The wind from the donut portal had become so overwhelming that electron shocks and zephyrs were being scattered across the entire inside of the donut shop as if a Class 4 tornado had been localized entirely inside the little place. The other pigbots and Motorfed struggled hard to yank Top Gunk out of the portal but he kept falling in deeper. For a minute, Top Gunk had a nightmare vision...
An untold army of clones of his abusive Marine father lined up at attention upon a blanket of charcoal black tundra. "DEDICATION TO THE STATE, MY BOY! " One clone says. BAM! The Marine dad clone strikes Top Gunk in the back. "GET THAT INTO YOUR HEAD!!! I AM THE LAW AND MY WORD IS FINAL!!!" A separate strike from a different clone. One of the clones distorts into a gargantuan cycloptic variant on his favorite Social Darwinist Heavy Metal icon, vocalist Danny Fists from the band Darwin's Pupil .
"CRUSH THE WEAK!! WAX MY MUSCLES LIKE A PORCELAIN NAZI!!! SURVIVAL OF THE STRONGEST! YOU COULDNT POSSIBLY COMPETE WITH A GIANT OF MY STATURE! SO WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU?" Danny Fists growls.
Top Gunk, bewildered from arriving in the Hell dimension and the unwelcome barrage of clones of his dad and the Heavy Metal giant, manages to mumble out: "Me...? I...am the weak?" He questions himself insecurely, somehow tapping into a part of himself buried well within his subconscious, a feeling not remembered since childhood.
"Thaaaaaaaaaat's right, my boy. And what do we with the weak?" asks Danny Fists.
Top Gunk picks himself up and stands up straight. "SIR YES SIR!!! WE CRUSH THEM!!! MAKE THEM OUR SLAVES IF NEED BE!!! LIFE IS FOR THE STRONG!!! TO HELL WITH EVERYONE ELSE!!!" He screams back at Danny Fists.
"Wellllllll then, Gunkboy...Let's see what you're made of. I'll give ya one good punch. But remember...I am a giant after all...Literally. My middle finger alone is bigger than your whole body" Danny Fists says, smirking.
Top Gunk assumes his warface and runs at the giant. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He wails. With one massive swoop, the Danny Fists giant lives up to his name....and sends Top Gunk flying across the void with one flick of one of his humongous fingers. No longer on solid ground, Top Gunk is stuck in an immeasurable sickly glide across the empty vastness of a black void. The clones of his abusive father mutate into elephantine dragonflies with vomit dripping from hulking insect mandibles. They sting Top Gunk from every conceivable angle...an ostensibly everlasting crosscurrent of incalculable angles, an uncanny otherworldly pain like he has never felt before. ""ACH!! JESUS!!!!!!!!" He shouts horrified.
"JESUS!!! HAHA...JESUS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS REALM, BOY!!!" One of the dragonflies buzzes out at Top Gunk in between stings. And then...as quickly as he was dropped into the Hell dimension...he is pulled out of it, and back into Holy Donuts...albeit one arm still in the infernal vortex.
While this was going on, Sanjay sat off to the side in deep meditation. The NWOCPP were so distracted by the cyclone chaos that they didn't notice Sanjay was resounding to ever increasing vibrational frequencies. He was resounding so heavily that he started glowing and putting off an immeasurable boundless light of life. So much so, his face got obscured by the light, looking like a distant angel. "Time for me to cast off this dimension." Sanjay said. And in a poof, like magic...he was gone.
The donut portal kept fluctuating. "AWWWWW GAWD ITS STUCKING ME INTO HELL!!! ITS SUCKING ME INTO HELL!!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" screamed Top Gunk. With the collective weight of his fellow Commie Cops, Top Gunk finally yanked himself free from the diabolical whirlwind of negative energy. Top Gunk flew back onto the wall, knocking over the cash register in the process. He looked around the store in a paranoid frenzy like a man who had just been confronted by the phantom of his long deceased father. Because, for as much as he was concerned, he had been. After a minute to gather his composure, Top Gunk brushed back the messy hair now draped over his cyclops eye. He snapped back into his programmed role. "ARREST THIS MAN FOR...FOR...I DON'T KNOW, 'ILLEGAL MEDITATION' AND...AND...USING SOME KIND OF SCIENCE TRICKERY TO ASSUALT AN OFFICER OF THE NWOCPP!" Top Gunk yelled, but when he looked around, he and his fellow pigbots found that Sanjay had disappeared into thin air. "WHAT THE HELL!!! WHERE'D THAT LITTLE SHIT GO??? HE WAS JUST HERE A MINUTE AGO!" Top Gunk screams impotently. His big cyclopean eye focuses over on a old school beeping flip phone where Sanjay's body used to be. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS SHIT???" He says out loud. "SCOFFIELD, GO GRAB THAT FLIP PHONE!"
Motorfed walks over to the counter and grabs the phone. Flips it open. A crudely recorded ringtone starts. A Hindu dream pop beat with Sanjay singing starts.
"Communist party, Cycloplean pigbot army
they got shit for brains and one big eye
the eye of Horus, the eye of the whore
big bad Baphomet, gatekeepin' closed doors
they can't silence me, my soul ain't for sale
even with their reign of power, even with their hale
jumpin' throgh the portals, gonna exit on a light beam
haha pig shit brains, go eat some GMO pink slime cream
it'll only make you dumber than you already AREEEEEEEEEEEEEE
HARE KRISHNA! A-HA!" the song echoes out
Top Gunk, Hogg Mild and the other pigbots all get the same angry infuriated face at the same time. Not surprising, because the brain implants cause them to all vibrate on the same frequency like Borg. Motorfed tosses the flip phone at the wall, shattering it. "GREAT GOIN', DUMBASS! WE COULD'VE ANALYZED THE PHONE! MAYBE IT HAD A TRACKER OR SOMETHING SO WE CAN FIGURE OUT WHERE THE HELL HE WENT! NOW ITS SMASHED!" Top Gunk yells.
"It's an old flip phone from like the 2000s, bro. They're shit." Hogg Mild says.
"True." A voice comes in on the pigbot's intercom. It's their scientific advisor and all around shill scientist, Professor Pussycat Bitch. "But then again, maybe this Sanjay guy is like some sort of quasi spiritual hacking genius...like next level shit. Like adding quantum physics upgrades onto an old flip phone to allow himself to use it transport himself interdimensionally at will...real Star Trek shit." All the pigbots look at each other confused. The Professor's science smarts cause an immediate bad reaction across all their implants, taking their collective primate anger into a fever pitch. "Uh nevermind..." The Professor says. Turns to his private voice: "Forgot about the NWOCPP's aversion to anything intelligent, ahihhihhih...glad I'm not there."
"Uh oh." Motorfed says to himself. "Uhmmm I'm gonna go run to the gas station and uh...gas up my bike." Motorfed rushes out of there. Immediately upon leaving, the pigbots start having seizures of rage. All the pigbots open up their mouths at once, letting out one giant demonic inhuman growl. The growl is so massive it causes all the glass in every store in the strip mall to shatter at once. Three stores down, at Eric's Laundromat, Hyper Dolphin is taking a swim in a washing machine. All of a sudden, the lid of a separate washing machine right beside him bursts open rapidly, sending a furious gust of wind in all directions of the laundromat. A portal has opened up. Sanjay peaks his head through.
"Hyper hop in...time for us to skedaddle." Sanjay says.
"Always ready at the drop of a hat, Sanjay." Hyper replies. "This hat to be exact...its a trucker hat. It says 'Big Titties In Little China' haha. Found it in a thrift store the other day. Was gonna give it its first wash. Oh well. Anyway..." Hyper drops the trucker hat to the floor and jumps into the washing machine wormhole. The portal accelerates in a rapid expanse of circular light and disappears. An old man doing his clothes watches all of this indifferently.
"In my day, we'd have to walk 10 miles to escape into an interdimensional wormhole. Kids these days...they got it so easy." The old man yawns.
~~~THE END...OF 'SANJAY's HOLY DONUTS'...NOT SMALL's POTATOES
WE STILL HAVE AFTER MEAL...HOLD ON...LOADING AFTER MEAL...
HOPE YOU LIKED YOUR DONUTS AND POTATO DONT FORGET FORTUNE COOKIE...THANK YOU.
"So there ya have it." Isaiah Smalls says. "A yarn to keep ya warm at night. And food for thought...if only it were ACTUAL food cuz I don't know how much longer I can live off canned Traveler's Stew, survivalist powdered orange drink, and an endless supply of marshmallows. WHY??? WHY DID I PURCHASE SO MANY DAMN MARSHMELLOWS??? Can you tell me that, viewer? CAN YOU? Assuming you get this Geo-Site transmission out there in the Alt-Techwebs..." Isaiah sighs. "Ah the heck with it. I don't even care anymore. If it ain't the Good Book, I have no faith in it! Certainly not this damn Windows96 computer!"
"Windows98, Isaiah. Windows96 is a vaporwave band." Hyper chimes in.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh right, right. Yeah I love listening to them while sharin' Tradwave memes. Annnnnnywho, it is time for us to go here at Small's Potatoes. Sorry we didn't leave things all nice and tidy like an episode of The Twilight Zone but what can you do? Just be glad it's not one of those crappy 00s revival Twilight Zones or one of those wokeass 2020s revival Twilight Zone episodes. Peeeeeeeeee-yoo, those stink worse than the bunker bathroom after Hyper gets done with it. Ever wonder why he's got such a small dolphin body? Let me give you a hint: Dolphins get IBS just like humans do. See ya, homies!" Isaiah Smalls drops a marshmallow into the trashcan fire. It burns into a gnarled picture of a ghost horse. Isaiah suddenly starts closing his eyes and speaking in tongues. Opens his eyes back up...they are glazed over with blue light. He speaks rapidly: "WHAT DO PATSIES, CLONES, ALIEN PSYOPS AND THE ANTI-CHRIST HAVE IN COMMON??? FIND OUT IN THE NEXT SMALL'S POTATOES!!! OHHHHH YEAHHH!"
___END TRANSMISSION__
___POTATO CONSUMED__
___HAVE A NICE APOCALYPSE__
This story is also available in a simple audio format: https://www.bitchute.com/video/HmT9Ldq6A9OH/
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Samsara Junkyard: Small's Potatoes is a collection of one-off individually wrapped short stories. It is a part of the greater Samsara Junkyard series. Samsara Junkyard is a series that uses a mixture of surreal fantasy, comedy, drama, science fiction, horror and paranoid fiction to explore redpilled themes relevant to our apocalyptic times. In addition to Small's Potatoes, It also includes the radio theater series Samsara Junkyard: Perdition Theater, which already has 4 episodes out, and Episode 5 is dropping by Halloween 2022 on Bitchute, JoshWhoTV, Soundcloud, and more! A separate comic strip series called Comica Apocalpytica is expected out before year's end. I plan on compiling both all future Small's Potatoes and a text-only version of Perdition Theater into a couple paperback novels one day. Stay tuned!
To support me, go over to my Gumroad and take a look around. Subscription services, music albums, and more! Peace, my niggas...
https://xylenroberts.gumroad.com/
One of the many places to find Perdition Theater:
https://soundcloud.com/xylen-roberts/sets/the-various-vortices-of-xylen