Jimmy and his magical buttcorn save the LGBTQP+ parade!

Buttcorn had taken the LGBTQP+ community by storm, appearing almost overnight, and catching on like wildfire.

It had begun purely by accident when a 96 year old Korean War vet from Iowa named Jimmy had accidentally ended up in Manhattan, NY, instead of Manhattan, IL after trying to make his way to the annual "Popping Corn" convention. This isn't anything abnormal, as most people from Iowa don't know what technology is, and as a general principle, never leave Iowa, so they don't even know how to use maps, let alone GPS.

When Jimmy arrived, he was Perplexed at all the butts he saw. So many butts of all sizes, shapes, and colors. Confused, he asked to himself what was happening, and a man with nothing but ass-less chaps, sucking on a popsicle approached him.

Flailing like a saucy little man with spindly little soy-latte arms, the popsicle-daddy asked through an obnoxious lisp after loudly sucking the tip of the popsicle with a ¡POP!, "Whats this?"

Jimmy, like any ancient husk from Iowa, spoke back in a whistle, but if whistle was spelled "huh-wissle!" Each of his s's sounded like a z, long, drawn out, and stupid.

"It's poppin' corn." He wanted to get excited about it, but he still couldn't understand why a crowd of people were prancing around with their butts hanging out.

"My pappy, an his pappy, an his puppy's pappy used ta make it gon' all the way back ta Anabaptist times. It's our secret recipe." Normally he'd wink, but he was flabbergasted.

"They look like lil butts, is it buttcorn?" The popsicle-daddy asked obnoxiously.

There was a long, disquieting pause, as Jimmy stared at him with his mouth agape, unaware of the dangers this might pose to him.

"Is it what?"

"Hey, Cramdis! Come over here!" The popsicle-daddy shouted to one of the most vile cretins you've ever seen, of whom began tossing ¿her? legs everywhere as it ran.

¿She? was fat and lumpy, with a five o clock shadow and giant, floral dress resembling the type of couch that only someone in Iowa would sit on.

"Oh wow, are these little butts?" ¿Her? voice resembled sand rartling around a soda can.

"Tee hee, they're little butts." ¿She? began hopping around excitedly!

"It's poppin corn." Jimmy corrected the two freaks.

"No, it's little butts. I like little butts!" The ¿woman? informed him.

"We can make these better." The popsicle sucking freak informed him.

After only a few minutes, satan's army had swarmed the poor man's booth, and were using food dye to color Jimmy's popcorn, now called buttcorn by the freakish looking mob, the colors of the rainbow flag. They dumped it on each other and devoured it off of every part of their bodies, one of them repeating over and over, "I'M EATING LITTLE BUTTS!"

Though horrified and confused, the ravenous crowd began throwing money at him, thousands of dollars, more money than he'd ever seen from his corn subsidies.

"MORE, WE WANT MORE!" A cretin dressed as a demon shouted. "ME-ME WANT MORE NOW! ME HUNGY FOR BUTTS!" The things vocabulary was breaking down as it turned animalistic.

"MORE!" An eleven year old ¿boy? ordered violently. "MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE, MORE!" It continued over and over.

He began to feverishly pump out the buttcorn as money was literally dumped onto him, the machine now being overworked, but he realized that this was dire and his life was at stake, so he did what he could to calm old Betsy-Sue, his great gran-pappy's poppin corn maker.

It was after only twenty minutes that the machine began smoking, and by now, the cretins had jumped into the back of Jimmy's truck and like cockroaches, swarmed bag upon bag of what they were now deeming "butt kernels", of which they'd ripped open like starving children with rifles ambushing a UN aid convoy. They began shoving handfuls into their mouths, as they clawed savagely at one another.

Soon Jimmy realized that his machine was broken, and all of his butt-stuff had been consumed, kernels and all. A bead of sweat betrayed his state of fear, and within moments, he was shoved to the ground as the kind, caring, loving crowd of people who just want to stop hate, ripped him from limb to limb, the last words he ever heard being, "I'M GONNA EAT HIS BUTT!"

Soon the police had to break up the riot... erm... peaceful protest, and Jimmy's mangled remains were promptly arrested before the white supremacist had his face plastered on every TV screen across the nation with the title, "racist white man offers up butt to be eaten by loving BIPOC's and LGBTQP+ people."

From that LGBTQP+ month onward, all LGBTQP+, minor attracted persons, intersex individuals, BIPOCs, and whoever the hell else I missed, ran a buttcorn stand, all sponsored by Microsoft, Coca Cola, Apple, and the NFL. Jimmy had done it, he'd saved the pride parade. GO JIMMY!