User:Cheapinitreal/UnBooks:The Life and Times of OG Smurf

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That's me as young thug gettin' his drink on, just before the Belgian discovered us.

What up, playa? My name's OG motherfuckin' Smurf and it sure is nice to make your acquaintance homey. It seems that I'm the only damn smurf willin' to stand up and lay out simple for you people. You remember that funny smurf comic and cartoon that everyone loved from the 60's-90's? Yeah, that one. That shit was fucking scripted yo. It wasn't no fucking fantasy land for those who had to live it. Those writers fucking masked the hard knock life it was coming from smurfoverty[2]. They made us look stupid like we can't articulate ourself, they stripped us of our heritage forcing us to live at this fucked up hippie ass commune, and then they used us for their silly entertainment. We were slaves of the human race, but I'm here to set the record straight. First, I gotta break down the mystery, rebuild the history, dispel the rumors of our life on Earth, for only then can you truly understand the trail and tribulations endured during the life and times of OG Smurf.

edit Chapter One:The lies you shot fuckers will believe

It seems to me that humans will believe just about anything anyone will take the time to jam in between commercials on the TV or between ads you'd find on some poor excuse for a journalistic rag in the toilet. Before I can tell you about how it was, you gotta realize how it is. Most of what you think you know, well, that is bullshit.


That's the Belgian rocking his classic molestasche while shooting us his classic pedosmile[1].

edit How we ended up in the limelight

In the early 1950's, a young pedophile Belgian cartoonist, Pierre Culliford had hit a new low in his life. He had been a Belgian for nearly 22 years, a pedophile for nearly 5, and a cartoonist for 3 and he hadn't tapped any prepubescent ass since he himself had hairless balls. Pierre took to hanging out in the woods, dropping acid, eating mushrooms, and drinking wine. It turns out if you get good and fucked up, you can see us. He was a newly inspired man. The first human to get so trashed they could see us. He took to drawing us and making funny books about us. Turns out people thought we were the shit and old Pierre ended up knee deep in any little kid he desired.

edit 3 apples high. Are you retarded?

Now, this goofy bastard started spreading all sorts of stupid bullshit about us. The most offensive of which is the 3 apples high myth. Honestly, even as children how could you possibly accept that smurfs were real (which we obviously are), if you accept the notion we are 3 apples high. Did you fucking people eat paint chips as children? We were rounded up and forced to live in these little ass mushroom houses. Imagine how big they'd need to fucking be to house us if we were indeed 3 apples high. They'd need to be at least 8 apples high and and 30 apples wide. Mushrooms that big don't fucking exist people but Smurfs do and we range from 1 inch tall to 4 inches tall.

edit Who the fuck talks like that? Did you think we were retarded?

The second most offensive misconception spread via the cartoon and comic strip is the overly annoying use of the word Smurf in our every day language. Yes, from time to time we'll throw a Smurf in their for no apparent reason and even create new words with Smurf as the root, but we don't drop Smurf every other Smurfing word for fuck sake. We can actually articulate quite well. Every time I think of how that Belgian made us sound retarded, I think of how I'd have liked to stomp on his ball-sack until his mashed little nutz turned black and then as blue as my Smurfin' face. That cocksucker!

edit Chapter Two:Early smurfhood

After the initial success of the Belgian's comic strip, the entire small population of smurfs were rounded up and forced to live in hollowed out mushrooms. Papa Smurf and Grandpa Smurf brokered the deal in order to save us from eradication. Conform, preform, reform, or die. Those were the options given to young Smurfs before they would even be considered for feature in the comic.

I wasn't about to simply conform and fuck performing. I didn't feel like dying, so it was off to the Resmurfatorium[3] for Deviants to get reprogrammed. It was a hellish alternative and some days I wished I had chosen death, but it made me wise to the world. Sure, I was gang-smurfed in the fucking shower, but I shanked 2 of the 5 bitch-ass smurfs the next week. Everybody learned pretty quick not to fuck with me. That's when and where I was bestowed my name OG Smurf and learned the teachings of the old Smurfs.

After 20 years in the pen, the Belgian had made a deal for a pseudo-reality TV show that they would mask as a cartoon, and I was about to get out. The suits wanted nothing to do with me, so they built a separate neighborhood to Smurvfille just for me and the other miscreants they needed off camera. It was the dirty little secret of the show. They called it Martin Luther Smurf Boulevard. Though I have no fucking clue who Martin Luther Smurf is.

Another OG

That's me fresh out the Resmurfatorium, after meeting Eazy E and learning the ways of true gangstar life.

edit Chapter Three:The TV years

The TV years were great for me. Sure I was never an on camera guy but the smurfs were riding high and dirty. I fell in hard with the exploding hip-hop scene of the mid 80's. The hidden location of Smurfville was just 20 miles southeast of Compton CA. I met a young entrapenuer named Eazy E and started my path down being a true Smurf gangstar for life. I showed him how to flow and he showed me how to slang product and pussy. He turned out to be a great friend and showed tribute to me by recording the following rap I wrote:

Straight outta smurfville kicking up dust,
The place where guns don't get a chance to rust.

I warned him and still he did approach me

now i got two more golf-hats for my trophy.

I got a brand new trend? That's killin' men!

Who is that? That's my little friend.

I'm the type of smurf that smokes motherfuckers,

I'm the type of smurf that smokes motherfuckers,

I don't give a fuck. I don't give a fuck.

Smoke motherfuckers like it ain't no thing.

—Excerpt from the original lyrics to Smurfs my Height Don't Fight written by OG Smurf and recorded by Eazy E under another title

Middle OG smurf

This here is Weedsie Smurf my pharmaceutical rep. That smugga made me millions.

I must admit I had the shit on lock-down. I was the king of MLS boulevard and in turn the king of Smurfville. If a smurf wanted to gamble, score some dope, or pay for some pussy, they needed to see me or one of my associates. My associates and I made fat stacks of chedder. I was the richest smugga[4] on the block, but still we served our purpose for the show. After a smurf has been on set for a week they need to blow off some steam, so they come see us. Nothing like betting your buddy you can snort an eight-ball of coke out of a whore's sweaty ass crack, and then winning, to take the edge off. Where did you think your favorite smurfs went when they didn't appear in an episode?

Times were prosperous for Smurfville. The economy was great, the smurfs were getting happy like they were always suppose to be all along and then it happened. The 90's rolled in and as a species we were declared a fucking fad and swept under the rug. The TV show was canceled. Many jobs went elsewhere, and government funding was halted. We begged FEMA for help but they left us to die like rats on a sinking fucking ship. We were forgotten by most and our society started to crumble. Very few smurfs new how to fend for them selfs. Most of them had been treated like some sort of glorified pet for most of their lives The city was falling apart. It needed true leadership. Dark and evil times were ahead and I decided I was just the motherfucker for the job.

edit Chapter Four: The Smurf revolution

We were out on our own. I had organized the few thousand Smurfs still living in Smurfville and we formed the Blue Panther Party. When the US caught wind of this plan, they hired a number of are arch-enemies, led by the Nemisis to destroy Smurfville and kill us all. I had planned for such a response and we had fortified the city days in advance of any offensive by the enemy. We were ready to execute every last motherfucking one of them, and that's what we were going to have to do if we wanted to survive.

edit The War

After a week of waiting, they practically sacrificed Scruple and Azrael. The poor bastards never knew what hit them. We took down Azrael quick as shit. The stupid cat[5] should have known better than to fuck with us. We beat the piss out of Scruple for days on end searching for information. Handy Smurf even crawled up his ass and started lashing on his colon, but that stupid fucker never cracked. Who knows? I may have let him live if he were smarter. Just natural selection I guess; the dumb ones just always die off first.

The second wave wasn't so kind to Smurfville. The Nemisis sent all he had at us. Gargamel, Hogatha, Balthazar, and an army of wartmongers penetrated the walls of our voluptuous city. Many a Smurf lost their life that day. The battle raged for weeks. All that were left were a few hundred of us on our side and Balthazar, Gargamel, and the Nemisis on theirs. They had us cornered and we look good and proper fucked. The cause looked lost, when, out of the smurfin' blue sky dropped Belgian Smurfs from the motherland and Peruvian Smurfs always looking to swoop in and save the day at the last minute started appearing by the thousands. After Gargamel and his father Balthazar were brought to the ground, Hefty Smurf personally ripped their balls off. It was glorious, the shit was fuckin' righteous ,but the fight wasn't finished just yet.

OG smurf tribute

This horrible likeness on me has painted on a school in Smurfville to pay tribute to my efforts during the war.

edit The Final Battle

The Nemesis had bolted at the sight of his fallen brotherhood, and only I, the one and only true OG Smurf, armed with my .45 caliber ghettosmurfslayer, gave chase. I cornered him down on an unusually empty MLSB. "Just one, the evil wizard cackled before adding, "That's all you punny blue cunts send to take down your Nemesis! The swiftly removed my ghettosmurfslayer with a simple wave of his hand. "What will you do know OG Smurf?" the wizard shamelessly spat.

For a moment, I believed I was doomed. I thought back on my days in the hood and in the Resmurfatorium. I remembered the teachings of the old Smurfs and all the things I learned. I asked, Is it cold out here Nemesis or is it just me? I assumed the position, focused my Chi and waited. The wizard responded, "Well maybe a little, but does that have to do with anything? I knew it was my moment. The villain always sets you up for a line that would look great on a movie poster when it is their time to die. Why don't I heat it up out here? I snickered before shouting Kamehameha, and frying him with a fireball 12X my own body size. The war was at last over and Smurfville would be allowed to do as it pleased. We rebuilt the city bigger and better than ever. The Smurfs were at last truly happy and there was no real need for a hardcore smugga like me no mo'.

edit Chapter Five:One more Job before retirement

edit The Music

After leaving Smurfville, I set out to see the Country, without a dime in my pocket as I left it all my moneys to my lil' Smurf buddies. I made my way spittin' rhymes sicker than most blowin' up coast to coast like butter and toast but only on the underground scene yo. One night in Detriot, I met this young scraggally looking boy at a club. He had opened for me and got booed off the stage. After the show, he came up to me and asked me, "OG what's it like being you? I thought about it a minute before answering:

Well, boy, I been around and I seen some things. Hell, I've slept in dumpsters and got high with kings. I just hope my music someday allows me to pack up my game and head out west where real women come equip with scripts and fake breasts. I'd like to buy a yacht with a flag that says chillin' the most and rock that bitch up and down the coast.

Some years later I saw that boy again. He was parading around like some sorta weird pseudo feminine trailer park metal rap rocking country pimp bastard amalgam named Kid Rock. After a few failed albums he changes he inlists the help of a little rapper named Jo-C (Jo-C/OG coincidence? I think fuckin' not). He takes the little advice I gave him and turns it into a hit on an even bigger hit record and never even said thanks. So, I did just what I told him I'd do; I packed up my game and headed out west, but I was looking to find him.

edit Revenge

That arrogant motherfucker actually had the gull to buy a yacht, with a flag that says chillin' the most, and he attempted to rock that bitch up and down the coast. I dusted off the old ghettosmurfslayer and headed to the docks to get what was mine. He was sprawled out on a deck chair with lil' Jo-C by his side. When he saw me he knew why I was there. There was that glaring twinkle of uber-pussy in his eyes. He knew I know Shug Knight. He knew Vanilla Ice could whip his ass so by default I was gonna whip his ass.

Image:OG's yacht.jpg
OG's yacht

That's my boat.

I told him that it was my boat now, that he needed to leave before things got smurfin' violent out here and that he knew why. He laughed at me and asked, "What you gonna do little Smurf? There is two of us and only one of you.' I without hesitation proceeded to empty the clip of my ghettosmurfslayer into Jo-C killing him instantly. I then looked at the now tear, piss, and shit soaked Kid Rock and replied "Now, it's just the two of us. I'm out of bullets but that don't bother me none. I suggest if you plan on living after today son, you grab your little dead midget friend and run." Which he promptly did leaving me the boat.

I retired to the yacht. I bring troubled Smurfs out on weekends and try to help steer them in the right direction. I write tunes under assorted pen-names in my spare time. These days I just try to lay lower than most but every now and then I'll still need to rock this bitch up and down the coast.

edit Notes

  1. ^  That means coming from the ghetto yo. That means eating government cheese and the dead bodies of our fellow smurfs to survive. Simply, it means I'm hardcore motherfucker.
  2. ^  The molestasche and the pedosmile are both obvious indicators of a pedophile. You can clearly see the Belgian has both. That fucking thing on his shoulder is not a real smurf.
  3. ^  The Resmurfatorium serves as an all purpose asylum, prison, and orphanage. It is the most ghastly place imaginable and often free-thinking smurfs were sent there with no just cause.
  4. ^  Smugga is a term used by Smurfs to identify ones species or ones homeys, posse, or crew. The word is often used as a term of endearment when used by fellow Smurfs but when a human of any race utters it, we cry hate-speech. It most likely derives from the Afro-American word Nigga and was more than likely inspired by my interaction with their culture.
  5. ^  It is a little known fact that cats can see Smurfs all the time. Smurfs and cats have been at was for centuries. Smurfs have killed hundreds, ney, thousands of cats and coined the phrase "There's more than one way to skin a cat." When you're as small as we are, you best know more than one way to skin a fucking cat.

edit References

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