Kids Can’t Be Trusted

The redneck farmer reached for the bag of seeds and sprinkled them on his lawn as he picked at the bleeding scab on his right cheek.
“That’ll do for the rest of the day.” He said, as he continued to chew on his soggy string of hay he pulled from the back of the barn, where the horses sleep. He peered over the tiny cabbage sprouting from the soft brown soiled ground. The farmer opened his mouth to breathe, exposing the decay of rotting teeth from the overuse of meth when he was a teen. A drop of spit filled with tobacco fell upon the growing baby cabbage when he let out a sigh.
“Oopps…eh, lil’ tobacco can't hurt.”
I guess you could say he spoke too soon. The cabbage opened up, and a solid black arm oozed out. The foul smell flew up his nose punching him back, making him lay on his elbows. An awful growl arose from the cabbage and a demented baby crawled out, with slime covering its entire body.
“What in Gods name…?”
He was originally growing a field of Cabbage Patch Kids, so he could have kids of his own. He wanted an entire family, for someone so old and lonely, the farm was all he had. So he decided to combine his agriculture skills with his wants and wishes. Boom Cabbage Patch Kids, freaking genius. But you see, when you mix chewing tobacco with a growing child, things will go nothing but wrong.
The baby grabbed hold of the farmers leg, and its grip became stronger by the second. The farmer screamed, kicked the baby down with his remaining foot just before his bone snapped. This man could not have it easy though; unfortunately during this moment of screaming and pure terror, he sprayed his tobacco-covered saliva all over his growing field of cabbage patch kids. The ground started to shake, and an entire army of demon infested Cabbage Patch Kids ascended from the soft beautiful fresh soil. The farmer ran for the barn, and grabbed the rake he had used for cleaning all of the fallen from the fields. Smashing each wanted child one by one, the farmer shed a single tear, for his hopes of having a family were literally splattered all over the wall. Once all of the little monsters were nothing but guts and broken up pieces of skin, the farmer collapsed to the ground, leaning up against an old bookshelf, he cupped his hands around his face and began to cry. He cried for his family, his dream, his loneliness; everything turned into a disaster.
“I can’t do nothin’ right. Nothin’ in my life will ever go the way I want it to. All of them years of sayin’ ‘please please please let me get what I want this time’, turned into nothin’ but dog doo-doo.”
A book slipped off of the shelf and hit him on the head.
“What in tar-nation??” He said out loud. He looked up, and saw a baby with its sharp teeth out hanging off of the self. Before the poor farmer could react and run away, the baby lost its grip and sunk its teeth into the farmer’s head. The bite was hard enough to break through his skull, and scrape the outside of his brain. The farmer’s vision crossed, and blood filled his eyes. All of that red sticky goo, dripped down his forehead, passed his nose, over his mouth and spattered on the floor. A long last breath of the farmer slowly escaped his mouth, as he crashed to the hay-covered floor.
“Just wanted to be happy.” And his heart stopped beating.