“Alright, hand me the scissors, some more straw, a blowtorch, that paint, some do-rit-os, and a cold, frosty, green lightning from the mini-fridge, yo,” said this one guy. “Alright,” says the other, more empathetic fellow, since he listened more and talked less. This other dude, who had brown hair and was generally shorter than the taller fellow with all the demands, gathered up all of these supplies and dumped them unceremoniously onto the desk in front of them.
“Here’s all your shit, bro, what are you doing?” he said.
“Dude, don’t fizz my cola,” taller, lighter-colored hair guy says, and cracks open his green soda. “You are harshing my mellow something fierce,” he says. “Listen, I’ma show you what this is all about, come back here in like two hours, I’ll be done,” he asks.
“Tight,” says the brown-haired youngster. He goes off to play. Eventually, the ball that this kid and another were playing with got kicked under a car, and it was wedged so tightly, they could not get it out, not even an adult could get it out, so he wanders back to the shed that Kid 1 is still in for some godawful, horrible reason, because it was a really cool day outside and it would have been really cool if Kid 1, who’s name is Spencer, had come out to play, too.
Kid 2, brown hair sappy boy, who’s name is Jeffrey, but for your purposes, you can refer to him as J-dog, enters the shed again and asks Spencer, “Yo, was crackin’ homie?”
“Not much,” says Spencer. “I’m about done with this,” he says, and puts down the blowtorch. He lifts the mass of stuff on the desk into the air.
“This is called a motherfucking ‘effigy’, my bro.”
“What’s that?” J-dog says, clueless and caught in the headlights.
“This is an effigy and I’ma show you what it’s for,” Spencer says.
“You’re kinda scaring me, dawg,” J-dog says, but he blows it off and plays it cool. A light tear rises in his eye, but he wipes it away. “I mean, come on dog, you’re mom’s from Indiana, bro, quit clownin’.”
Now Spencer is clueless, and all of time stops, so I can step in to explain what’s going on. You see, J-dog thought that the word ‘effigy’ was from a foreign language and he’s probably right.
Look it up.
So now, Spencer and J-eez-us are strolling down the way and the sun is setting. The effigy looks to be a scarecrow made of some burlap and staw or something, and Spencer’s also got some rope on him in the shape of a noose. They find a tree and Spencer strings up the sackman to hang from the tree with a noose around it’s neck and he starts beating on it with a stick.
“WHOA, MAN,” J-bird says, because Spencer has obviously blown his fucking mind.
“Whoa, you’re beating a stuffed dude hanging from a tree by a rope around it’s neck, that is too fucking far out for me, man,” J-dog says.
“I know,” says Spencer.
He beats the thing a few more times, then he lights it on fire.
“Dude! It’s a flaming, hanging man from a tree, bro!”
“Yeah, now watch this,” Spencer says.
He starts beating the figure again. Flames and embers burst from the strawguy and little pinpricks appear on their skin.
“Holy shit, dude!” J-bro says and they fall on the ground laughing and rolling around.
After some time, the strawman has pretty much burnt up, and nothing else around the thing had caught fire, due to Spencer having been prepared and possibly once a boy scout.
“What was that all about,” J-dog says, propping himself on his elbow.
“That haydude was totally a physical representation and manifestation of all of my deepest fears, hates, and worries, all rolled into one entity. It was cathartic attempt at rationalizing that this truly is a cold, uncaring universe, but I still have the warmth of heart to go on, I realize.”
“Thank God!” J-dog says. The two guys go get icecream afterwards. At some other part of this story the cops had shown up and arrested the pair and they spent about two nights in prison before being seen by a judge, at which point they were given probation and a slap in the face, because in that town, you were allowed to slap people in the face.