Flintstones Porno Story: Roxy and Chip Yabba Dabba Kids Chapter Two

Chip:

Well, I woke up with a start.

I looked for my alarm clock. It wasn’t there.

No wonder I didn’t hear one! What happened to it? I turned to the clock on the wall. It said 8 o’ clock.

Wait.

EIGHT O’ CLOCK?!

I ran to my sister. Roxy! Wake up! We’re gonna be late for school!

She began to wake up Huh? What are you… She noticed the time. OH MY GOD! WE’RE GONNA BE LATE! COME ON! She yelled, dragging me to the closet. After we got dressed, we sped downstairs. Our mom was waiting for us with her hands on her hips.

You’re 10 minutes late, she snapped. Why didn’t you…

NOT NOW, MOM!!! I screamed. We grabbed our backpacks and lunch money, then we each took a Granitola bar, then bolted out the door.

Too late. The bus drove away right in front of our faces.

Feeling crestfallen, we slowly walked back to our house.

Wait.

Hold on.

Did I forget something?

Oh geez, don’t tell me I forgot to introduce myself to you guys!

Crud.

My name’s Chip Rubble. I probably don’t need to tell you my middle name. It’s not really that important.

I’m like your average 11-year old kid. Leopard skin T-shirt, woolly mammoth fur jeans, the usual.

Some kids call me The Kid with Many Voices. Now, on this particular morning, it looked like I just scored the nickname The Kid who Missed the Very First Day of School.

Anyway, when we entered our house, Dad was typing on his laptop, writing a new screenplay, as usual.

We both ran over to him. Hi, Dad, Roxy whispered sheepishly.

Hey kids, he said, paying attention to his laptop. Suddenly, he stopped typing. He looked at us with a surprised look on his face. Wait a minute, he wondered. How come you two aren’t at-

Something happened to the alarm clock, I blurted out.

Dad slammed his head on the keyboard. Hey, Pebs, he called out, could you drive the kids to school?

Mom came from downstairs. She had her cellphone in her ear. Wait. Hold on, Joel, she said, then put the phone down. Bamm-Bamm, I told you. I have a big meeting at the agency in 10 minutes. I can’t drive the kids now.

But honey, he began, I have to-

You can give Steven Speilrock the screenplay for ‘Rockeye’ later she said, her eyes crossed.

Fine, he muttered, obviously beaten. Come on kids, let’s go.

We got our stuff and went over to Dad’s rockmobile, then he started the ignition.