Who's your momma
October 10 2002 at 4:41 PM |
Harbinger of Death
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“I know just how I want to die this year.” OmarSnake had a faraway look in
his eyes.
“Yeah? How?” Cathbad asked, knowing he probably didn’t want to hear it.
“Smothered in the cleavage of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark.”
Cathbad snorted. “Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath waiting for THAT to
happen.”
Then they heard someone say, “I don’t know, I can be a generous person.”
SWOOSH.
The two hunters looked around inside a pen littered with straw. “I’m not
sure about this,” said Omar.
“What is this thing?” Cathbad wondered, looking up at the pink fuzzy mound
they were scrunched up against. They looked at each other, and noted the
tiny snouts and curly tails. “Wait a minute, this must be our mom.”
“YOUR mom, maybe,” Omar sniggered, and poked his friend.
“Oh, you are SO dead.” Cathpig leapt on OmarPig and they rolled around in
the straw trying to deck each other with piglet hooves. When they paused
for a moment to catch their breath, they found themselves being watched by
several other identical piglets. “Hey, bro,” said Cathbad.
The piglets squealed and stampeded toward them, pushing the two toward the
sow in their efforts to reach the teats. “Ow! Watch it! Hey!” They were
smushed up against the teats, and their piggy siblings mercilessly
trampled them in their ferocious attempts to beat each other out for
breakfast.
Thus our poor hunters met their end, smothered in the bosom of an
amply-figured female.
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