Vegan Cyclists go Wild in Booger Hollow Arkansas
Lycra Lunatics and Lettuce Lanes: Vegan Cyclists Siege Booger Hollow, Buddy Bunkhole Declares Apocalypse in 10 Speeds
By The Rinse Report
“Tonight’s news: lightly rinsed, heavily shouted at.”
BOOGER HOLLOW, ARKANSAS — The dusty stillness of Booger Hollow was shattered at dawn this Tuesday by the unmistakable sound of whirring spokes, tofu-fueled chanting, and the scent of eucalyptus beard oil. A flock of middle-aged vegan cyclists — known as The Gliding Greens — descended on the town like a kale-powered locust plague, blocking traffic, confusing livestock, and sparking outrage from locals and prophets alike.
The group, a national vegan cycling collective based out of Portland, Oregon, claims to be on a “carbon-neutral tour of enlightenment,” pedaling across America in hemp shorts to raise awareness about the dangers of internal combustion and grilled meats.
But here in Booger Hollow — population: “not many and proud of it” — their message landed about as well as a quinoa casserole at a hog roast.
“Get your quinoa wheels off my Jesus road!”
“I was just tryin’ to take my hog, Tinkles, to the vet,” said lifelong resident Earl Snerd, holding what appeared to be a leash tied to a fairly anxious pig. “Then suddenly I’m surrounded by glow-in-the-dark fellas on bikes yellin’ about oat milk and planetary trauma. One of ‘em tried to hand me a pamphlet on beetroot healing. I slapped it outta his hand. With Tinkles.”
Traffic came to a standstill on Booger Hollow’s one major thoroughfare, Route 0.5, as dozens of cyclists held a “Slow Roll for Sustainability.” Their route stretched exactly 2.6 miles — the full length of the town — and took them five hours, partly due to intentional slow-pedaling, frequent kombucha breaks, and a spontaneous group meditation outside the abandoned bait shop.
“It’s performance activism,” said Cypress Moonbrew, self-described “cycling shaman and plant-based diplomat.” “We ride not just to protest fossil fuels, but to awaken rural America to the sacred rhythms of plant-forward living.”
Cypress wore no helmet, only a wide-brimmed straw hat and a vest made from upcycled curtains.
Enter: Buddy Bunkhole, The Hollow Prophet
From his holy perch atop the hollowed stump behind the Booger Hollow Grill, local prophet and conspiracy consultant Buddy Bunkhole delivered a thunderous rebuttal to the invading cyclists.
“The Book of Alleged Revelations foretold this!” he bellowed, shirtless, sweaty, and wearing a sash made of duct tape and corn husks. “The beasts of the road shall ride two-wheeled chariots of soy, and with their thighs they shall smite the patience of honest truck folk!”
Buddy, who is currently banned from three separate state fairs for yelling at cotton candy, claims the cyclists are part of a larger global plot to erase meat-based masculinity and replace trucks with “emotionally sensitive scooters named Todd.”
“They wanna ban brisket! They wanna milk almonds with their bare hands! And they wanna turn all our asphalt into chia seed paths!” he warned, shaking a damp Bible taped to a raccoon trap.
His raccoon, Pastor Nibbles, nodded solemnly.
Sockman and Fish Arrive in Style (and Flames)
Word of the leafy Lycra rebellion reached global ears when Sockman & Fish, the detergent-fueled heroes of laundry justice, crash-landed their all-terrain, ale-powered tandem motorcycle right into the Booger Hollow duck pond.
“WHERE’S THE BARBECUE?” Fish shouted as he emerged, already swinging his bowling ball like a diplomatic gavel. “This smells like fear. And hummus.”
Sockman, cloaked in his usual cape of righteous cotton, addressed the cyclists with measured grace.
“We support healthy living, carbon awareness, and post-industrial balance,” he began. “But you blocked a school bus, spooked a goat, and quoted Gwyneth Paltrow in a town where the only Goop is in the gravy.”
Fish interrupted by challenging the Gliding Greens to a duel: a best-of-three lawn bowls faceoff with the loser eating a pork chop while listening to Motorhead.
The Greens declined, citing spiritual inflammation.
The Confrontation Escalates
Tensions peaked when one cyclist, identified as Fern “Elbow Breeze” Clementine, attempted to preach tofu theology at the Booger Hollow Barbecue Pit. “Meat is murder,” she declared. “And gas grills are planetary sin.”
The Pit’s owner, Big Judy Lardhammer, responded by slow-roasting a brisket while screaming the Pledge of Allegiance into a megaphone.
By noon, the standoff turned surreal.
Buddy Bunkhole constructed a makeshift altar of old tire rims and declared himself “High Priest of Pre-Apocalyptic Pedestrianism,” insisting that only those willing to bowl with fire and eat jerky would be spared in what he called “The Rapture of Ruminants.”
A group of cyclists responded by performing an interpretive dance inspired by the digestive tract of an herbivore.
Three chickens fainted.
Greta Rage Responds from the High Seas
Via a barnacle-encrusted satellite link, Commodore Greta Rage of the Feminist Pirate Navy weighed in from the deck of the S.S. Patriarch-Splitter.
“These cyclists mean well but forgot the first rule of protest: don’t be insufferable,” she declared. “You can’t guilt someone into saving the planet by blocking their tractor.”
She offered to send a pod of harmonized dolphins to mediate.
President Rumpled Crump Gets Involved by Mistake
Mistaking Booger Hollow for the capital of Bulgaria, President Rumpled Crump tweeted:
“The vegan bicycle army is trying to steal our cows! I WILL NOT LET TOFU REPLACE HORSEPOWER. I like gas. I love beef. I am very sweaty but brave.”
He later appointed his parrot, Hendrix, as “Middle East AND Middle America Advisor.”
The parrot replied, “Kale is treason!” before biting a reporter.
The Resolution: A BBQ Peace Accord
After eight hours of yelling, flexing, meditating, and minor raccoon-related injuries, Sockman proposed a compromise: The Booger Hollow BBQ Peace Accord. The agreement included:
- A tofu tent beside the meat smoker
- A “Quiet Hour” bike lane between 4–5 a.m. (when no one is awake anyway)
- An annual Veggie Parade float sponsored by the Booger Hollow Beef Council
Buddy Bunkhole was offered a ceremonial role as “Ambassador of Apocalyptic Traffic.”
He refused, stating: “I only accept titles carved into jerky.”
Aftermath and Final Thoughts
The Gliding Greens have since left Booger Hollow, heading toward Texarkana where they plan to “bicycle through beef country while chanting vowels of peace.” They left behind a trail of eco-glitter, several angry squirrels, and one forgotten yoga mat currently being used by Pastor Nibbles as a personal bathroom.
Locals remain wary but calm.
“I still don’t know what a chickpea is,” said Earl Snerd. “But I now own three pamphlets, two kale smoothies, and a restraining order against someone named ‘Willow Breeze.’”
Buddy Bunkhole continues preaching from atop his stump, now wearing a bicycle helmet made of possum bones “just in case the devil’s peloton returns.”
As for Sockman and Fish?
They left as they arrived — on fire, mildly intoxicated, and shouting “BALANCE IS BEEF!” into the sunset.
The Rinse Report
“Tonight’s news: lightly rinsed, heavily shouted at.”
Catch more updates as the Sockmanverse rolls on, two wheels at a time — but powered by justice, not kale.
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