Tales of the OT, Episode One: HRV and Pio

Once upon a time, there was a hillbilly hippie named Harry. Harry lived in the beautiful, rolling hills of northwest Arkansas with his thirteen wives, where they raised alpacas. One night, Harry's wives decided to hold their biweekly Harry-loves-me-more-than-he-loves-you session a day early. Not wanting to distract the wimmin, Harry took several canteens (none of which held water), a sturdy stick, a copy of Doctrines & Covenants that he found when he was catfishing last Tuesday, and his hip flask and headed out into the woods to do some deep drinking and soul-searching.

It wasn't long before he stumbled upon a small, bizarre creature that was neon green. It reminded him of a wool-less alpaca, so Harry approached it. It can't be any fiercer than my thirteen wives, he told himself. After a bit more drinking, he discovered that the creature was a baby Bunchie and decided to name it Pio, short for Pioneerbasketball (something told him the Bunchie really enjoyed the sport).

The Bunchie wasn't very verbose, but that was okay with Harry. He talked about his favorite country & western songs and ranked the various creatures he'd spotted on his way up the hillside. Pio listened but didn't say much.

Over the next couple of years, Harry continued to visit his little alien friend out in the sticks, and the two formed a close bond. Harry discovered that the more he drank, the more talkative Pio became. The Bunchie confessed that he had a foot fetish that developed after he stepped on some LEGOs as a child, but he assured Harry that hillbilly feet were about as attractive as Hobbit feet, so he needn't worry. Pio also expressed disdain for Spider-Man and explained that he enjoyed rules. He questioned whether chicken nuggets were actually part of a secret government plan to feed everyone dinosaur fossils in an attempt to cover up their mass genocide of the venerated tetrapods.

Then one day, Democrats from the Georgia House of Representatives showed up, kidnapped Pio, informed Harry that the Church of Latter-Day Saints was a very friendly institution that wanted the best for him, and told him that Bunchies weren't real.

Harry's whole world was rocked. In an attempt to cope, he turned to drinking (water). Every day, his wives heard him mutter under his breath, "He ain't gone. He's comin' back. Those darn stuck-up Mormon libs can't hold him."

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into years, Harry began to lose hope. The Pio Signal he constructed and blasted into the sky every night never got a response. Harry began to do less ranking, talk about Linda Smith just a little less, and not care so much about the Razorbacks' astonishing and rather impressive ability to lose football games in the most absurd ways possible.

He never forgot Pio. In fact, he had one of his wives tattoo a Bunchie over his heart.

"If he can't live in the sticks, he can live over my heart," he reasoned.

To this day, Harry still goes out to that little spot nestled amongst the oaks. He'll sit and talk to no one for a long time, then raise his hip flask and call a quiet toast.

"To Pio. Long live the damn sonofagun."

The End.