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The Chronicles of Carina: Tales from the Brain Farm [Part 1]

by Yoshikrab, Carina


Carina walked into the farm lobby, hands on chin as she took everything in. She was skeptical of this 'brain farm' place, but she had been itching to make a brain juice margarita. After Yoshi had told her all about the brain farm, Carina immediately scheduled a tour and gave Yoshi a few high-fives. What better place to do that than at the original source, the brain farms?

She almost jumped in surprised when a butler-lookin' man appeared out of nowhere and started to narrate the directions for her.

"Welcome, esteemed guest," said a mournful, deep voice that one would expect of a butler, "Would you like to see brain juice harvesting in action; the brain juice packaging; the brain harvesting; or the interactive brain juice game?"

"Oh, uh," she began nervously, squinting at the man. He had a really bald, really shiny head. "Where do I get the free samples? Let's go there first, wherever that is. And, uh, they are free, right?"

"Of course," said the the man, "The samples are completely free. I will show you there now. The Boss recommended you to us, so we complied, esteemed guest. Let me introduce myself. I am known as Mr. Moo."

"Mr. Mooooo. Great!" Carina said, clapping her hands together and subconsciously saying his name like she was mooing. "You can call me Carina."

Mr. Moo led Carina through many pink hallways inscribed with squiggly lines as if they were brains. He began to describe all of the technologies.

"Here is the express brain harvester," explained Mr. Moo as he gestured for Carina to look at a large machine, "Usually, a brain needs to be harvested throughout the entire day to prevent serious brain damage, but the express brain harvester can do it within an hour. Although the taste is degraded from it. Let us continue towards the free samples."

As they began walking down the pink hallways, Carina already began to oooh and aaah. "Where do the brains come from?" she asked. "They grow on trees, right? Or is it a root, like a carrot? Oh! How does it get harvested? Did you explain that yet? Sorry, I was looking at the squiggles on the walls..."

"Of course, of course," said Mr. Moo, "You see, esteemed guest Carina, these brains are harvested straight from the ground. The soil must be moist and cold to keep the brain at a good temperature. We are currently experimenting with cryogenic brain harvesting.

"The harvesting of the brain can be explained in more detail later, but basically we pull the brain out of the ground like a carrot. The leaves of the brain is called 'hair'. I've always wondered what hair is like."

Carina nodded up and down, pretending to listen, but really just lost in her own thoughts. This guy kind of looks like Mega Mind, she thought. No hair and big brain. It's like he was made for this job.

"Now, the samples," said Mr. Moo, "Mrs. Oink! Please bring the Piña Colada Brain Juice."

Suddenly a woman named Mrs. Oink came over with a brain juice piña colada, and although Carina was excited to try this first sample, her brain automatically jumped to a thought related to her name: there's a Mr. Moo and a Mrs. Oink... is there also a Mr. Cock-a-doodle-doo?

"Please, take a sip. The Pina Colada Brain Juice is what we are famous for. With our special pineapples and coconuts, we create an almost heavenly combination. Of course, brain juice should be drank in moderation. That is why we have very little brain juice in this cup."

She pushed the thought aside and then eyed the delicious-looking yelllw drink with starry eyes. It had a pineapple slice and a paper umbrella on the side with little swirly brain patterns on it.

"That was the the best piña colada I've ever had," she said really quickly, thoughts racing in and out of her mind like it was picking out the different distinct flavors. "So, uh, what were you saying with this drink?"

With almost infinite patience, Mr. Moo replied, "I was stating that brain juice is best drank in moderation. Of course, if you have a very powerful resistance to brain juice-- meaning you have a very juicy brain-- then you will be able to drink abundant amounts of brain juice without feeling the side effects of wheezing, hallucinations, and rapid blinking."

"Where would you like to go next? We could check out the harvesting wing," suggested Mr. Moo.

"The harvesting wing!" Carina tried to chirp, but it came out more of a wheeze. She cleared her throat and tried again, setting the glass down on the floor (Mrs. Oink gave her the stink eye) and then catching up to Mr. Moo. She couldn't help but notice that his once bald head suddenly had a big tuft of hair on it. It looked like a mustache, but on his head. Brainstache?

"I've been meaning to ask," Carina said while staring at his wobbly brainstache, blinking rapid fire. "Do I have a juicy brain?"

"Well, taking account on the fact that you aren't experiencing extreme side effects, you have a moderately juicy brain," replied Mr. Moo, "Basically, you are slightly smarter than the average brain."

Carina let out a victorious smile. She had an above-average juice brain. That was basically Elon Musk levels of smart.

"Now," said Mr. Moo proudly, "The harvesting wing is right here. We harvest with state of the art technology that pulls the the brains out of the ground at an excruciatingly slow speed. You see, if the brain is pulled out too fast, you get a spoiled brain with severe brain damage. We feed the botched brains to the Brain Doggies since it is inedible for humans . . . moo moo . . . moo moo moo . . ."

She squinted her eyes at a brain in a tube that barely looked like it was moving, and for a second, it looked like the brain grew a pair of eyes and looked back at her, winking.

Amazing. This was the best farm ever.

Suddenly Mr. Moo handed her another cup with a paper umbrella on it, but this time, it was tiny. Maybe another piña colada? But miniature tasting?

Carina shoved the entire thing in her mouth, only to spit out the glass when she realized the cup wasn't edible. For shame. She made a mental note to add that to her Yelp review.

"Hmm, this piña colada tastes a little different. It actually kind of tastes like pizza for some reason," she said, looking over at Mr. Cow. He looked back at her, mooing with the brainstache still covering his face.

"You seem to be having some side effects to the brain juice," said Mr. Moo, probably noticing for the first time that Carina was blinking rapidly and looking at him weirdly-- as if he had a brainstache.

"Have a toe sandwich. It helps with the wheezing and blinking," said Mr. Moo, "Now, would you like to proceed to the packaging, manufacturing, or the-- wait. Oh. It seems like the interactive brain juice game is currently down."

"A toe sandwich?" Carina echoed with wide eyes, and suddenly Mr. Moo's old foot floated into the air and into her hand. "Hmm. I don't think this would be very good," she said with a weary voice, inspecting it. "But maybe it tastes like the pina colada?"

Mr. Moo's eyes suddenly widened, "Oh no! Moo moo moo! . . . sabotaged . . . moo moo moo! Mooooooo moo moo moo!"

Carina halted, eyes wide. Sabotaged? By what? ...A cow?!



"I knew you weren't Mr. Moo!" she screamed as she charged after the false cow.

Carina charged after the false Mr. Moo, but he was getting farther and farther away. She blinked, and then all of a sudden, he was right next to her with a sinister smile.


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103 Reviews


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Reviews: 103

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Sun Jan 31, 2021 2:10 am
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SpunkyKitty wrote a review...



Hi! Spunky here to review!

This is a really ridiculously funny story. This line,

Carina shoved the entire thing in her mouth, only to spit out the glass when she realized the cup wasn't edible. For shame. She made a mental note to add that to her Yelp review.

Is SO hilarious. XD The choice in names is...questionable and makes the reader wonder if there is more about the brain juice than meets the eye...

"Now, the samples," said Mr. Moo, "Mrs. Oink! Please bring the Piña Colada Brain Juice."

Suddenly a woman named Mrs. Oink came over with a brain juice piña colada,

The Pina Colada Brain Juice is what we are famous for.

There needs to be consistency! Assuming "Piña Colada Brain Juice" is the correct way to spell it, then the second sentence needs to switch the "brain juice" and "piña colada" as well as capitalize.
The last sentence needs to have the squiggly line over the "n"

probably noticing for the first time that Carina was blinking rapidly and looking at him weirdly-- as if he had a brainstache.

This would sound much better if it read,
"...Carina was blinking rapidly and lookin at him as if he had a brainstache."
Your choice though.

You could work a little bit on the dialogue, but other than that, this story is pretty awesome. Also, that is a legit cliffhanger. Amazing job, I can't wait to read more!

this review is looking kinda sus...




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Sat Jan 23, 2021 10:40 pm
Sunflowerdemon3712 wrote a review...



okay this was a fun story but I do have a couple questions. so are these people all human or are they zombies of some kind but civil? and is she halusinating(think I spelled that wrong) at the end when he's standing next to her or is that real? but I do think the line " there's a Mr. Moo and a Mrs. Oink... is there also a Mr. Cock-a-doodle-doo?" that was really funny it got me laughing. all in all I think it's a good story but I suggest you use a little more explantion to paint a clearer picture. anyway I liked the story and I hope you have a great rest of you day bye! : ) .




Yoshikrab says...


hahaha okay so @Carina is a member here (She is not a zombie . . . i think . . .) . This entire thing started off as a joke, which then progressed into a wall post, which now I have created to turn into a story. If you want more background information, I suggest you check out the Prologue.





oh okay sorry I feel kinda dumb now but thank you for the clarification



Yoshikrab says...


it's alright! I've made this mistake many times before so it's no biggie!



Carina says...


I shall neither confirm nor deny being a zombie




The idea that a poem was a made thing stayed with me, and I decided then that I wanted to be an artist, not just a diarist. So I put myself through a kind of apprenticeship in writing poetry, and I understood even then that my practice as a poet was deeply related to my reading.
— Edward Hirsch