Calvin and Hobbes
Calvin and Hobbes is a comic strip created 100 years ago by Bill Watterson. It chronicles the happy childhood of Calvin, a 6 year old boy who does normal, 6 year old things, like hallucinating his stuffed tiger is real.
It has a cult following among Gen-Xers, furries, emos, and basically anyone who thinks it's still the 1980s. It's known on the internets as being the poster example of childhood being violated by Rule 34.
Bill Watterson is the creepy loner Jew who created Calvin and Hobbes. Lemon Demon wants to eat his heart and absorb his powers. He is staunchly against merchandising his characters because it would cheapen them. While this is a good idea and works in theory (and certainly why there aren't over 9,000 C&H t-shirts at Hot Topic), it backfired because then the fans and various other losers made bootleg stuff, most notably the car decals of Calvin peeing on stuff. This also cannot work as Watterson is a Jew and is born greedy, so he gets some cash out of the bootlegs, but spends most of his time drawing shota pictures of Calvin nowadays. Family Guy or The Simpsons or some other fail cartoon stole the phrase from this, "do you have one of Calvin peeing on Hobbes?" See: irony and FAIL. Watterson's refusal to saturate the media with C&H merchandise backfired further with the invention of the internets, when the torch of the comic strip's legacy passed to b, who fed it through the meat grinder of lulz.
The Content-omg philosophy
Calvin and Hobbes became notorious for making boring shit used by people who have never had sex and all committed suicide by now, funny; philosophy. The power to use the word analogy and make it cock busting funny was deemed as genius, despite the strips containing such controversy like questioning the belief of God, Santa Claus and PTSD.
That Calvin has the vocabulary of Nietzsche and suffers from some half assed reverse Darwin complex instilled by Freud's theory that Calvin secretly wants his dad to fuck him never seemed to have been noticed by anyone. They were too busy tripping out on Calvin's supper coming to life and laying the smack down on his rebellious ass, or watch him fantasize about being a dinosaur or a Teletubby because his severe psychological problems won't allow him any friends. Even Hobbes kicks his ass most of the time.
It's the kind of comic which people have read for years and claim to find new things even after reading about murderous snowman coming to life and executing acts of terrorism on Calvin's dad's car for the 687th time. This is because they can understand humor that's so complex and fuckolosophical, and that's why they read Calvin and Hobbes; because they're geniuses. The black sheep imperative of this comic fails hard, and it's no wonder that Bill Watterson decided to stop drawing shit that gave genius loners and armchair philosophers a reason to live.
Calvin and Hobbes pr0n and copypasta is some of the most vile, despicable content on the internets. Even a jaded /b/tard will find it difficult to read the following story about Calvin having sex with Hobbes without feeling vaguely uneasy. The internets can take the most pure childhood memory and make it sick and wrong; note Calvin's disturbing use of "Old buddy" in the following copypasta, or the multiple references to actual C&H strips, now irrevocably tainted with the image of Calvin driving his manhood into Hobbes' asshole. Rule 34 of C&H simply should not exist. It's sort of like 9/11, really; you can't help but watch, and you know that on some level it is lulz, but at the same time it's just incredibly fucked up. Unlike 9/11, however, the blame for this doesn't fall on the Jews, but on YOU. Anon takes sick pleasure in bending over precious childhood memories and raeping them until they are no longer recognizable, and it should be very ashamed of itself. This is why Anon can't have nice things.
The Bel-Air'd copypasta, however, is unquestionably made of win.
Calvin lay there in bed, next to his tiger. His fourteenth birthday was tomorrow. He was getting older, puberty striking at his mind, voice, and body. He kissed Hobbes on the cheek, puling him closer and thanking him for being his friend. Then it happened. It had been happening often since he was thirteen and he had no control over it. His erection tented his boxers, pressing against his friend's rump. "Stop.." Hobbes mumbled with a growl, pushing him away. Calvin turned onto his back, pulling his under shorts down and revealing his standing pillar, about five inches. Average, he figured. He shook Hobbes awake. He didn't wake easily and grumbled and growled, but eventually sat up. "What, Calvin?" He asked angrily, wanting very much to go back to sleep. "I love you." "I love you too.." Hobbes said awkwardly. 'What is this about?' He wondered. "Do you really love me?" "Yeah, why?" Hobbes sat up further, sleep forgotten. "I want to mate with you.." Calvin blushed. "Wait! What?" "I love you so much, I want to show you how much I love you, how much I appreciate how you've cared for me over the years, and been there for me. Now I want to be there for you." Hobbes looked perplexed, he stared at Calvin, and then at the corner of his eye, there he saw it, Calvin's standing erection, dead toward his face. He knew instantly. "Oh..." There was a pause, for a moment they did nothing but lay there, Calvin staring hungerly toward Hobbes' beautiful fuzzy face as he in turn looked directly at Calvin's smooth young cock. A feeling stirred inside of Hobbes that he'd never felt before, not even through all of the years they had been friends. He bit his lower lip. "Calvin, I.." "Please, just kiss me." "I-" "Please, just once. If you don't like it, I'll never bring it up again. Just once, please, for me." Hobbes was silent, but then slowly replied, "Okay. For you." Calvin's hand reached up behind Hobbes' whiskered, furry neck, and slowly drew their faces closer to each other. His lips parted softly and a soft moaning emanated from them, anticipating the taste of his friends wet tiger mouth to come. Hobbes resisted, but that only made Calvin pull him in harder. Their lips met sideways, mouths open, their labored breaths mixing with each others. Calvin pulled away slightly as they fully contacted with each other. "Oh, Hobbes. Hobbes..." A wave of sensation filled Hobbes' entire body, every muscle quaked with a shock of pure pleasure, his body melted, his lips quivered as they moved wet and hot against his friends'. With each passing of their tongues, he became more ravenous. More hungry. More like a tiger. He suddenly pulled away, his claws extended, accidentally scratching Calvin across the cheek. "Oh god, Calvin. I, fuck." "Just let it come to you, old buddy." "Fuck, I.. Fuck me." "What?" "I said fuck me. Fuck me now." "Turn over." Hobbes immediately and excitedly turned over onto his stomach, his ass facing toward Calvin, the muscles of his tail causing it to lift high in the air, exposing the bright pink, smooth asshole that poked through the fuzz of his tiger-cheeks. He moaned in soft anticipation. He was afraid Calvin's mother might hear. "FUCK ME. PLEASE. PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME WAIT." Hobbes was nearly crying, as Calvin's hesitation was like a thousand stabs to his heart. He felt like his world was tearing apart, lest his old childhood friend fucked him in the ass, right then and there. "Sure thing, buddy." Calvin grasped the base of his cock, touching the top to the base of Hobbes' bright pink asshole. From the depths of Hobbes' throat came a mighty roar like that which had never been witnessed, as Calvin's hard, 13 year old cock slid roughly into the depths of his ass. Calvin's hips began to jerk, he felt the warmth of his friend's insides, he was fucking Hobbes in the ass. He knew this, but he just couldn't believe it. But he always came back to that warmth, and it shocked him back to the pleasure of his present reality. "OH GOD" Hobbes roared out, his English words were barely intelligible through his native animal tongue. Calvin pumped faster, harder, deeper into his tiger's asshole, feeling the warm, wet suction as it pumped in and out. Hobbes' asshole began to bleed, and it only made Calvin hornier. "Oh God, oh Jesus. I love you, Hobbes. I love you." "I love you too. Oh God I do." Calvin's thrusting was so frantic, that neither had any room for words after so many minutes. They simply fell into the pleasure, into the depth of the feeling. Two friends, deeply rooted in fun and adventure, in the science of box transmogrify, time travel, Film Noir, it all came rushing to them. Calvin thought back on so many memories he'd had with this dear cherished friend, and came back to the moment at hand, and he realized that all of those beautiful moments finally had a focal point. He finally got what he wanted. He finally was making love to Hobbes. He continued to thrust, unthinking, until Hobbes turned, stared into his eyes. "Remember the time your house was robbed while you were away on vacation? When I was in the house? Oh god, I was so scared. I thought I would never see you again. I wanted to tell you so many things. That night, god, I wanted you to make love to me. I thought I would never have you again. Please come. Come in me like I always wanted you to that night. COME IN ME!" Calvin's penis contracted in 5 spasms that shook the very depths of Hobbes' small, tight ass. He filled Hobbes to his stomach with his loving cum. He filled his ass. And he filled both of their hearts. "GOD I FUCKING LOVE YOU. OH GOD." "I LOVE YOU TOO. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH." They screamed to the heavens, these two, best friends, becoming one.
And they lived happily ever after. THE END.
But they were cut short by a sudden noise. Calvin's mother came rushing into his room, her robe barely tied, her feet tripping up over themselves as she clumsily made her way to him in the dark. She flicked on the light. There, she saw her son, completely naked, hands gripped tightly over the waist of a stuffed tiger, his penis half way inside of a hole torn out of the stuffing of its backside. The stuffing from Hobbes' insides littered the sheets and the lower part of Calvin's body. "Are you, oh my god." The next morning, Calvin's mother told his father what had happened, after recovering from the shock, and Calvin's father spent the day beating the shit out of him, Calvin was broken almost to the very edge of his life. And when it was over, and Calvin was able to recover and see out of one eye, he made Calvin watch him as he shoved his stuffed tiger, Hobbes, his best friend in the whole world, the love of his life, into a wood chipper. Calvin cried, but his dad just backhanded him and told him to go finish his homework. The next day, Calvin's parents scheduled him to permanently see a psychiatrist. 3 years later, Calvin shot himself in the face.
Calvin lay there in bed, next to his tiger. His fourteenth birthday was tomorrow. He was getting older, puberty striking at his mind, voice, and body. He kissed Hobbes on the cheek, puling him closer and thanking him for being his friend. Then it happened. It had been happening often since he was thirteen and he had no control over it. His erection tented his boxers, pressing against his friend's rump. "Stop.." Hobbes mumbled with a growl, pushing him away. Calvin turned onto his back, pulling his under shorts down and revealing his standing pillar, about five inches. Average, he figured. He shook Hobbes awake. He didn't wake easily and grumbled and growled, but eventually sat up. "What, Calvin?" He asked angrily, wanting very much to go back to sleep. "I love you." "I love you too.." Hobbes said awkwardly. 'What is this about?' He wondered. "Do you really love me?" "Yeah, why?" Hobbes sat up further, sleep forgotten. "I want to mate with you.." Calvin blushed, and Hobbes got scared, and said you're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air. I whistled for a cab and when it came near the license plate said "fresh" and had dice in the mirror. If anything, I could say that this cab was rare, but I though "nah, forget it, yo home to Bel-Air"! I pulled up to the house at about seven or eight, yelled to the cabbie, yo homes, smell you later. Looked at my kingdom, and I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Air.