Initial Violation: Hopefully Not a Sign of Things to Come

Once upon a time, there was a pumpkinhead named Davis who lived in a henhouse with his pet fish, Jennifer. Every few weeks, Davis would leave the henhouse, sneak into the local CVS, and steal fish food for Jennifer. Ever since Davis bought Jennifer from the Gypsy who lived next door, she had refused to eat anything but CVS brand lipstick. One day, Davis decided to bring Jennifer to school to show all the chicks. Davis thought he would get some mad poon, but it turns out the fishes are lame pets and all of the babes liked Chad McAlister’s turtle. It also helped that Chad was dreamy, whilst Davis had a hideous orange face with a creepy, carved out smile. Davis never got any love from the ladies, but that was okay because Davis only had a leafy crotch where every other boy in the world has his wedding tackle. Only Davis’ best friend, Patrick, knew about Davis’ flowerless garden of love, but nobody else could know, or Davis would melt from humiliation and cease to exist. One day, while Davis was getting lipstick for Jennifer, Chad pulled down his pants to reveal his shriveled lack of a ding-dong. He only briefly heard Patrick’s cries of “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Davis!” before vanishing into another plane of existence.

The end

Second attempt:

It was a crisp, cool autumn day when the Benson’s came into town on their huge, white oxcart. The big iron wheels of their cart rumbled down the cobble-stoned main street all the way to the big iron gates of the old, run down manner-house.
“Well, here we are,” sighed Mr. Benson, as his slowly climbed down from the side of the oxcart,
“It sure is big!” exclaimed Bobby, as he attempted to jump down.
“Not as big as daddy’s wing-dang-doodle!” exclaimed Mrs. Benson.
Just then, the door of the house opened to reveal a tall, dark-skinned man. John, Sue, and myself were, of course, the little scamps we used to be, spying on the whole event from our tree-house. Our jaws dropped as we recognized the dark figure that came out of that creepy place.
“Hey, I know that guy. Didn’t he used to live on the other side of town?” I asked.
“No, he didn’t,” Sue said in between sucking on John’s balls.
Just then, a pumpkinhead with no pants on popped into existence.
“What the fucking hellchrist?!” exclaimed Sue as she bit down on John’s balls.
John screamed like nails on a chalkboard as he grabbed at his bleeding crotch. It was at these blasphemous screams that Mr. Benson turned around and spotted us in the tree-house. “Kill them, new slave man,” he said as he pointed at us. The dark figure turned, and began lumbering towards us.
“Yes, master,” said the figure in a deep monotone.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod… I d-didn’t mean to… ohmygod…” stammered Sue.
“I don’t know who or what you are you… pumpkin… head… creature…” I yelled at the strange pantless pumpkinhead, “but we have to get the hell out of here!”
So no-nuts John, blood-mouth Sue, and pumpkin-head pumpkin head all sprinted behind me as the black man leapt towards us like a panther stalking his female love kitty. It didn’t look like we stood a chance, but things turned around when the black man got shot in his black face.
“Sometimes them niggers gets out of line, and you gotta show ‘em who’s boss,” mumbled the old man as he fired his shotgun. I watched in horror as the man fell on his back and promptly died, while the old man peered through the smoke rising from the end of his used shotgun. “Was that the Johnson’s odd son from America?” asked the toothless old man. “Yep, always knew he was a killbot” exclaimed the toothless old man, his wrinkly face contorting into a gleeful, self satisfied smirk.
Then we circled jerked onto Susan’s face (accept for John, who no longer had testicles). It was great.