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Vegetable Vance

Recommended Posts


The following is, in my eyes, what would've happened if Tommy had died at the '86 meet, Vic had survived, and Lance hadn't abandoned his brother in the chopper.




It only lasted a moment.

...But it felt like an eternity.


The deafening whir of bullets have dulled every other sound in the nearby area. Through his hazy, blood-drenched vision, Victor Vance digs his shattered fingernails in to the damp wood of the dockside and claws his way to the only safe haven within reach: an open crate.


He feels the lack of beat from his heart and begins to panic -- in this surrounding, at this very moment that he'd trained years for, surely there should be more, he thinks to himself. Was this the end? Or had all his training truly paid off?


"Bro!" he faintly hears over the crash of something heavy in the riverside. "We gotta go! They dead! We gotta go!"


Lance Vance kneels down and extends his hand to his brother, who lets out a sigh of relief as his vision becomes clean once more.


"Damn. Can't believe we made it outta that," he states, calmly assuring his brother with a smile to signal he's okay.


A look of horror coats Lance's face. "I... I can't understand you, Vic. What?"


Victor Vance reads the expression on his brother's face. About to laugh it off, but then the glazed over look on Lance's face tells him something was seriously wrong. He tried once more.


"Damn. Can't believe we made it outta that!" he screams at the top of his dust-worn lungs, to which Lance lets out a

heart-wrenching sigh, shaking his head.


Lance blinks hard, causing tears to spill from both eyes. He listens carefully, trying to decipher what his brother says one last time. He focuses and leans in, clearing his mind of everything else: "Murr. Mrmg rmereve r murrd murr oolumsspppplllpppp," is all he hears from his brother, who is now drooling uncontrollably and swaying from side to side.




The days became weeks.

The weeks became months.

The months became years.


In the Spring of 1992, Lance Vance had been taking care of his brother for the past six years to this very day. In a downtrodden, run-of-the-mill two-star motel bedroom, Lance uneasily sits on the edge of the lice-riddled bed,

keeping both eyes focused on the scenes in front of him on a 9-inch black and white television of riot scenes currently running through San Andreas.


His ears, however, are focused on a much more daunting sound: his brother, Victor.


"Ooouuaaargh," he hears of his sibling, sloshing around the double bed like a fish out of water. Lance exhales hard, looking over his shoulder at his vegetable of a brother, who's either suffering through a great deal of pain, hunger, or has once again soiled himself for the fifth time this morning.


"sh*t, Vic..." Lance sighs, unable to stop himself from laughing at the unfortunate situation he's been in since the 80's. "You sh*t y'pants again?!"


"Mafteiu wrr wrrrrrplhlll," Vic's spittle covers the back of Lances head, who leans over him, sniffing his groin region.


"Nah, you ain't," he says, thumping his brother in the dick as hard as he can, which causes Vic to giggle uncontrollably. "Ain't you got no fear'a pain anymore, my brother?! Can you not even feel this sh*t?!"


Lance glares at his brother, who's staring off in to space, shaking and gyrating, running his hands over the pillows

behind his head, feeling all the silk ripples and bumpy textures, causing him to urinate furiously.


"Ah, I spoke to soon, didn't I?"


Noticing the dark stain through his grey jogging pants, he finally loses it. Grabbing Vic by his neck, he drags him off the bed, causing a thud to the ground below. Muffled yells are heard from the couple below, which Lance easily blanks.


Opening the door with his foot, he pulls Vic out to the balcony. "C'mon, you heavy sack of worthless squash n' carrot ass mother f*cker," he spits through gritted teeth, struggling to hoist his worthless brother up. "You always were a good flight," Lance jokes of Victor's past piloting skills as he lifts his brother's legs up and flips him over the balcony to the wet concrete parking lot twenty feet below.


The disgusting sound of Vic's skull meeting with the hard roadside causes an expansion in Lance's light denim jeans. He chuckles, leaning over and examining his brother on the ground, expecting to see a pool of blood surrounding Vic. To his dismay, he sees Vic playfully swimming beside a puddle, giggling.


"LfishhLfiishBlllrr br bllfish," he hears of his brother below.


"...'Da f*ck?!" he questions, shaking his head.


And with the playful innocence of his celery-brained brother, an idea was born...




"This is a f*ckin' stick up, Jack!" Lance's yell echoes across the ground floor of Los Santos national bank.


The bank tellers raise their hands, distressed, as pedestrians drop to their knees and scream. They scream and plead, until they notice the weapon in Lance's hand. Well, both hands... Actually, both arms...


Lance Vance has hoisted his dribbling mess of a brother up as a human shield, covering his own entire body.


A guard draws his pistol and orders Lance to freeze where he stands, to which he refuses compliance. Without hesitation, Lance tosses his brother like a sack of potatoes at the guard, who fires a blind shot, missing both Vic and Lance, but not of the six-year-old cancer survivor who was stopping off for his parents to make a quick balance withdrawal before taking a well-deserved family vacation.


Vic Vance's urine-soaked body slams in to the security guard and causes both men to crumple to the ground. One teller decides to try his hand at hero, attempting to impress the colleague he's been hitting on since last week.


The counter jockey charges at Lance, who grips his downed brother by his ankles and squats down, almost using him as a human baseball bat. Vic's body slams in to the teller's legs, causing him to trip and fall face first on to a floor buffer, snapping his neck and causing his spine to jolt through the skin.


"sh*t!" Lance cries out, losing his balance and falling over at the weight of trying to swing his brother as the teller's body slides off the floor buffer. "You see!" Lance screams, standing back to his feet, attempting to catch his breath. "I didn't come here to f*ck aroun'!"


Grabbing his giant blood-related weapon by the cuff of his neck, he slams Vic's head in to the glass of a teller's window.


"Mlafrm mhutnmtmg mmrr manche," Vic slurrs as his head is crushed against the glass, leaving traces of blood, bone and spittle all over the clear window before it shatters.


Alarms are sounded as Lance squats, lifting his brother on to his shoulders and throwing him over the counter as his body thuds in to the light carpeted floor below, winding him and causing him to fart uncontrollably as he shakes like a leaf in a cool Autumn breeze.


Lance hops over the counter, seeing the grounded safes behind each cowering teller. His eyes light up at the thought of the treasures inside. Reaching down, he grips Vic's wrist, who's unable to resist. Unable to even assess where the f*ck he is, let alone resist.


Lance crushes Vic's fingers in to the dial of the safe, using his flesh and bone as a lock pick, scratching and scraping his fingers and nails through the cracks of the door. Vic murmurs in discomfort and weeps as the bones in his fingers snap like twigs under a soldier's marching boot in battle.


The slash of red stains cover the grounded safe as a teller attempts to lock her arms around Lance.


"You're a f*cking monster!" she cries so violently her voice cracks.


Lance digs his hand in to Vic's mouth and cleanly rips one of his molars out and stabs it in to the teller's thigh, causing her to scream as Vic's tooth penetrates her black stockings and doughy flesh underneath.


She lets go and Lance stands to his feet, swinging a left hook to her right tit, launching her in to the wall and dropping her unconscious immediately.


Lance stomps on his brother's face, causing him to jolt and slither over and over in the same position, crying at the top of his vegetable lungs.


"Blflk rjkgh m m mlrgpl," Vic cries, shaking and shivering in what can only be a kin to a nine-year-old boy seeing a ghost at the end of his bed on the stroke of midnight.


Lance bends down once more, seeing the crack in the grounded safe has widened considerably since using his brother's vegetative fingers as a lock pick. What's left of his now stump-like hand finishes the safe off, revealing stacks of green inside.


"The cost of livin', my brotha'. The cost of livin," Lance smiles, pocketing as much cash as possible.


Victor Vance weeps, unable to render a single thought. His hand a nub. His face a chasm. A mouth of broken teeth and dark red liquid. He turns to his side and starts to close his eyes, watching his brother's footsteps grow dim in the distance.


Lance hops back over the counter, straightening out his jacket and looking down at both the mother and father caressing and caring over their shot dead six-year-old son.


Smiling, he ungraciously walks by the grieving duo. "Sorry about the boy," he offers, laughing as he exits the building.


The End. I think.

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I felt bad for reading this and smirking lol, nice work from your awesome disturbing mind (y)

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I couldn't stop laughing. Your keen attention to detail, such as that cancer surviving 6-year-old was astounding. You had well-paced action, though some of your phrasing was odd to think of. (Come on, punching someone in the tit doesn't send them flying across the room. That's just jibbly fat. A mean hook to the ribs could, though.) Other than that, f*cking great. Would hate to see Tinnitus Tommy or something like that.

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This was my favourite part.

I laughed so much reading this.


The disgusting sound of Vic's skull meeting with the hard roadside causes an expansion in Lance's light denim jeans

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f*ck it, im jumping on this new tradition too tounge.gif Coming soon : Necrophiliac Nancy! biggrin.gif Obviously I'm joking

Edited by VProductions

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Damn fine work, Tony. Did you enjoy GTAIV? I'd love to see the Journey of Geriatric Johnny Klebtitz. Seriously though, this was a fun read. There are a few wonky phrases but it's all manageable and the humor makes up for it, mostly. Good stuff.

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Damn fine work, Tony. Did you enjoy GTAIV? I'd love to see the Journey of Geriatric Johnny Klebtitz. Seriously though, this was a fun read. There are a few wonky phrases but it's all manageable and the humor makes up for it, mostly. Good stuff.

I did not. I can't see myself writing anything regarding the IV era.


Yeah, my writing probably suffers quite a great deal as I'm half doing work in an office and half focusing on writing to pass the time when it's not busy sarcasm.gif I don't really have the time to write at home, focused anymore. cryani.gif

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I'm laughing my ass off here at the moment. How do you come up with these stories!? lol.gif

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