The Adventures of Mr. Walrus and Napolean

I stumbled upon a short story I wrote back in high school, centered around a couple fictional characters of mine. In 10 months, it will be their 10th anniversary. I feel that’s significant enough to terrorize everyone with this original work of literature from the mind of a high schooler.

A little quick history. Mr. Walrus was created to be sick and twisted humor in the form of children cartoon, but containing parody content similar to that of South Park and Family Guy. It is intentionally over the top content-wise to build the contrast of its childish presentation and actual content matter. It is unintentionally a little like Happy Tree Friends, which debuted around the same time as Mr. Walrus.

Most of the Mr. Walrus content exists in comic form. He started off to exist mostly in a literary format of poems, short stories, et cetera, but most of the originals have been lost.

This story has been unedited and unaltered from its original form in 2002.

By Zero Stralem

© March 15, 2002

CAUTION!
The contents of the story ahead contains very graphic cartoonish-like violence and extremely censored vulgarity. Some of the things described may leave a sense of fear towards anything along the lines of walruses, teddy bears, candy canes, and toiletries. Please refrain from smoking while reading this and keep all hands and feet inside the couch until it has ended. E.S.R.B. has rated the following story “E” for everyone. Have a good one! By the way…Don’t let my mom know about this! She’s more paranoid than Bobby Buchez’s mother in The Waterboy.

It was just another normal day in Tringle Castle. Mr. Walrus and Napolean [the teddy bear] were drinking their beer while watching TV.

“You know what Napolean?”

“What?”

“I feel like killing someone.”

“OK. Lets go!”

It wasn’t long until Mr. Walrus and Napolean came by a hobo on the street. The hobo, who was obviously drunk, looked up to them and said, “Beware the Ides of March!”

Mr. Walrus and Napolean looked at each other greatly confused. Mr. Walrus looked down on him and said, “You’re gonna die you fucking bastard!” With that being said, Mr. Walrus took his candycane staff and…”Gwaag!” <Squish!><Pop!> Gib flew everywhere.

“That little bitch thought he could scare us! You sure showed him!” Napolean exclaimed.

Suddenly a mob of angry hobos jumped out and began throwing pork chops at Mr. Walrus and Napolean. That is when it happened. A strange energy covered Mr. Walrus and his muscles grew bigger, and he grew really pointy hair. He had gone into Super Duper Kick Ass mode! He faced the hobos and released a large amount of cheap beer on them in the form of a beam attack. The hobos all got drunk on the cheap beer and ended up killing themselves.

“Hey Mr. Walrus!”

“What?”

“These damn hobos dropped a letter.”

“Well, what the hell does it say?”

“It says, ‘Bring the walrus and Napolean back to me DEAD. I’ll be waiting in Iraq.
-Sadam Hussein’

They want to fucking kill us!”

“Then why don’t we just go kick his ass?”

“OK! That’s a great idea Mr. Walrus!”

After some hours of travel and binging, Mr. Walrus and Napolean finally arrived in Iraq. Many people jeered the walrus and his companion as they tried to find Sadam, so they just killed them.

Finally, they came to a sign which said “Sadam’s House of Joy.” They went in to find out that it was not Sadam’s quarters, but a prostitution joint. A prostitute went to greet them.

“Hello big guy. You got a nice candycane there…how about 70 bucks?”

“What the hell is your problem bitch?” Mr. Walrus responded. “I don’t want to fucking get crabs!”

So Mr. Walrus stabbed her and blood flew everwhere.

“Hahaha! Good job Mr. Walurs! Now lets find this Sadam bitch!”

At last they found what they thought was Sadam’s house. After searching it, they found a letter in there saying “Hey there! Meet me in the cave!” After coming all this way, Mr. Walrus and Napolean felt broken since there are caves everywhere. Then they found a map leading to it, however, on the back! Their spirts were raised, and they sought out for Sadam.

They came to a very rugged land which seemed to be in the middle of no where. That’s where they saw the cave! Cautiously they entered. As they neared the main chamber, they began to hear strange moaning like sounds. Mr. Walrus turned a corner and–

“Oh my god! Sadam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden are BFing eachother! That’s fucking sick!!!” Mr. Walrus yelled in disgust. He was about to charge in when Osama and Sadam stopped their love making and saw Mr. Walrus and Napolean.

“Ooo! My Taleeban scouts did not kill them!” Osama said in horror.

“Hey relax big guy, lets fuse together so that we may destroy them!” Sadam said to Osama. Then they fused together to form a very disturbing thing. A figure that looked like Sadam except with Osama’s stupid hat on and a long thin beard and slightly trimmer body! It carried an AK-47 (since that’s all they could afford). Sadam Bin Laden acted first and began frantically shooting his weapon at Mr. Walrus. Mr. Walrus swiftly blocked any accurate shots with his candy cane.

Napolean charged at Sadam Bin Laden yelling, “Beware the Ides of March!” He flew by clawing his claws into Sadam Bin Laden. However, Sadam Bin Laden didn’t even twitch! He dropped his AK-47 and threw Napolean into a box. Napolean was knocked out. Mr. Walrus then went into his Super Duper Kick Ass mode. He charged Sadam Bin Laden with his candy cane staff, but it was in vain. Sadam Bin Laden sent Mr. Walrus back into the boxes that Napolean hit. Mr. Walrus was nearly defeated, but something fell into his hands! It was a bottle of his favorite beer!

Mr. Walrus drank the beer and he suddenly became more powerful! His eyes glowed red and Sadam Bin Laden bursted into flames! It ran around hollering, and Mr. Walrus drove his candy cane into Sadam Bin Laden killing him. With that being done, Mr. Walrus and Napolean returned to Tringle Castle to binge in peace. However, when they returned, the Taliban and Iraqi Military blamed the US for the deaths and started a nuclear/biochemical holocaust. It all began on the Ides of March.

The Fucking End