Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Udder Nonsense

Eventually, there came a time when Tuesdays were bearable. When the rhinocerous would wear a pickle hat while reciting its manifesto to the flamingo. A time when the Oompa-Loompa could again roam free of the chocolate factory, never again fearing vermicious knids and other labidophorous creatures.

On that day, the sun rose purple in the sky, signifying a new, ecdemic era of faineance. And all the creatures of the world rejoiced.

When suddenly, from the sky, emerged a shining timwhisky - with fringe all around. And the aeromancers exclaimed, "What the hell is that!?" as the giraffes bowed in reverence.

Upon the carriage rode a tattogey, trying to scare up a game but the tauromachian age had not yet come to an end and not even the gilded flapjangles were interested.

In a final note of jubilation, the dish and spoon were reintroduced to the herd, having spent most of their savings on a cheesy snow globe collection and running out of money a mere 15 miles from the barnyard.


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