Pamela was halffartedly sketching a large vulva, and Green Garey was singing an old sky shanty to himself.
“Arr, blow the man, chuppies, blow the man,
Yaarg! Haarg! Blow, the man
Arr, blow the man, chuppies, blow ‘im hood!
Yaarg! Just gimme some time to blow the man—”
“Green Garey?”
“Yaarg?”
“What is that song again?”
“It’s an old diddy me parrrents used teh sing teh me. A lullarbay, AYE believe they’re called.”
“Okay. Just wondering.”
“…Ye don’t look convinced, Parrmela.”
“Oh, I’m plenty convinced, Green Garey,” Pamela said in a way that made it clear she was anything but convinced.
“Look, it’s just a song! Ye know, like ‘The Swelled Man?’
“Never heard of that either, Green Garey.”
“Nevarrg?” Green Garey gasped, immediately launching into song,
“Thearrrg once was a ship tharrgt put teh sky
The name of th’ ship was the Portly ol’ Gaye
The mens blew ‘im, ‘is mast went up
Blow the bully, maye boys, blow!
Soon maye the swelled man come
The flavarrg of sugarrrred tea with rum
One daye, when arrrg tonguing is done
We'll take anotharrrg breath and blow!”
Pamela blinked rapidly as Green Garey took a deep breath.
Before Green Garey could continue, the door of the outhouse behind them shot off like a champagne cork propelled by shit, hitting Green Garey and sending him flying through the crowd and up over the edge and against the hard wires of the godfight cage.
“Shit! Green Garey!”
Rubberneckers were everywhere in her path, gawking and laughing as the overflow from the outhouse calmed and began a slow crawl across the fourth floor.
“Out of my way! Out of my way!” bellowed Pamela, flashing her badge, “Official Royal Gourd business! Get in my way and get arrested! Godfights are illegal even if they suck I’ll cluck you up!”
Pamela still found herself having to push over plenty of idiots to get to the front and see Green Garey, stuck to the side of the cage, arms and legs outstretched, his parrot dragon fluttering around him in concern. She did not arrest any of them.
As Pamela reached the gap between the end of the floor and the cage, she saw that the younger god was lumbering over towards Green Garey, its wattles jiggling with curiousity.
“Green Garey! Green Garey!” Pamela shouted, reaching for him.
“Hey! The gods is movings!” cried a drunken onlooker.
The god stepped closer and closer to Green Garey, its oppressive modly barn odor terrifying Pamela’s nostrils.
“Green Garey! Quick! Take my hand!”
GOD-A-DOODLE-DOO
The screech of the older god shook the arena. All eyes swiveled to watch, people cheering and teeming with stale adrenaline that had previously been used to recongize how boring the match had been. It took two weak steps towards the younger god, whose beak was inching dangerously close to Green Garey.
“Green Garey! Clucking grab my hand already!” Pamela screamed, leaning forward so that she too almost fell off the side of the floor, eventually grasping Green Garey’s peg leg.
“Parrmela…parrgnter…let go of me leg…yaarg…”
“NO!”
The young god’s beak clasped around Green Garey and pulled him and Pamela through the cage fencing like they were pillow stuffing. Then it whipped them up in the air and swung open its jaws.
Pamela and Green Garey yelled at eachother as they swirled in the air like acrobats that were about to become hors d'oeuvres.
“Paaarrrrmelaaaa! WhAYE did ye not listen? How will we find those witches now?”
“You mean those skyrates, Green Garey.”
The older god dashed towards the young god like a feathery elephant on blood thinners.
The man who had earlier called Jeffrey with a G just ‘Jeffrey’ was still laying in the middle of the arena, and looked jealously at Pamela and Green Garey.
“What am I, minced liver?”
CRUNCH
The man was flattened by one of the old god’s claws as it leapt forth and slammed into the young god, sending it reeling back against the cage.
Pamela and Green Garey watched below them in awe.
“Yaarg! We mAYEght get outta this one yet, parrrgtner.”
They landed semi-perfectly atop the old god’s head, each flanking its stinky off-red comb.
“Yaarg! Me godccyx!”
“Ditto, Green Garey. Ditto.”
They held on to the older god’s scalp for dear life as it reeled up to strike the young god. Their weight on its head pulled back its eyelids, giving it a bit of a demonic eye popping effect that nearly terrified the other god into backing off immediately.
“Oh my cock! Look at that god!” cried a spectator with glee.
“I’m still alive!” crackled the voice of the flattened man in the center of the arena in an obvious attempt to upstage some of the action.
CRUNCH SQUISH
The young god promptly trampled him twice.
***
Werthers opened his eyes. Even his eyelids were in pain. Wherever he was, it was dark and foul smelling. He felt like he was covered in clammy weighted blankets with bad body odor.
He was in a pile of bodies.
Werthers tried to scream, but all that could come out of his horse throat was a small creaking that almost resembled a piglet oinking.
“Ah! Werthenwald! I had almost begun to believe you were actually dead! What a brilliant job you’ve done, I must say,” chortled the warm voice of officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish, who was emphatically snacking on a sweet smelling summer sausage.
Werthers looked around to see officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish laying to his left in the pile of bodies, which was odd enough, but what gripped him was the sight of officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish’s scrumptious sausage. It made Werthers’ aware of the infinite void vast as inner space currently within his stomach.
“What are you doing here, officer seargeant—”
“Ah-ah-ah! You mean Herbert. Methinketh you got so in character what with the being a corpse and all that you forget how deep I’m in this cover.”
“Well—”
“So deep. So deep inside this warm, wet cover.”
“Okay.”
“Say, what do you think of my ‘dead face,’ Werthiggins?”
Officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish froze, eyes and mouth wide open. Chunks of half chewed sausage spilled from his lips. A gnat landed on his left cheek, muttered halffarted curses at them both, and then left.
Officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish snapped out of it with a roaring laughter, “Well? That’s kind of what you looked like before you came to!” He froze again in the same pose for a moment, then burst back into laughs. “Absolutely marvelous!”
Werthers sighed as officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish paused his cackling to finish off his sausage.
“Ah. Such a delicious pop of flavor. Wertherfrummins, you must try one of those sausages sometime if you get the chance.”
Werthers heard the crackle of a light flame, and then a light puff, and then something long and unecessary bumping against the corpse pile to his right. Slowly, a lit cigarette inched through a pile of bodies, nearly poking Werthers in the nose.
“If that youfe, Wormy?”
Werthers turned to look at officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish, only to watch him rolling off into the distance through a sea of corpses.
“Gurthf to Wormy, hello?”
“Yes. Hello. I’m here.”
“Thank the cluffing chickenf for that! I gotf to fay, youfe if doing a real bang up job, Wormy. You may be the beft partner in crime me and Ronaldo hafe efer had!”
“Th-thank you.”
“Hamn, Wormy, I really thought youfe waf dead for a while there! But here you are, laying in thif pile of dead bodief with me, and you aren’t even maimed! Youfe’fe gotta teach me how ya do it one of thefe dayf. Anywhatfit, letf touch bafe before we kick thif nefft ftage of the plan into gear. The firft, and probably the moft important thing to keep in mind confidering our current fituation if that—”
CCRKCKRKCRFFKAK
A loud metal door crackled open. Werthers heard people scrambling inside, then someone slam the door shut.
“Cluck off Biscuit Pisser! You’ve been staring at my tits this whole time you know I can’t help it that they’re huge Biscuit Pisser but you know what else I can help you lose your eyesight all I need is two fingers I’ll gauge your clucking eyes out!”
“Wah wah wah magic bad for me and my boobies blah blah blah cluck you Shitface cluck you sideways!”
“Hey um hate to interrupt but why does it smell so horrible in here? Like a slaughterhouse?”
“Oh shut up Krumbumbum just shut the cluck up I swear you clucking women with your bodies and your senses of smell I mean cock what the hen is wrong with you seriously?”
“You better back off Biscuit Pisser or maybe I’ll turn you into a woman.”
“Don’t you clucking call me Biscuit Pisser!”
“Hey, Biscuit Pisser, lighten up chuppy, it’s not a big deal.”
“Yes it is a big deal Shitface it is a very big deal! She was not there when the turtles ran out of seaweed! How can she have the audacity to call me Biscuit Pisser?”
“I know, Biscuit Pisser, I know, I know.”
“Thanks Shitface. Anywhatsit, it smells like a slaughterhouse because that’s essentially where we are!”
Werthers would’ve peed himself if he weren’t as he was just discovering severely dehydrated.
“Well, not really, actually, because everybody’s already dead, so it’s more like a room temperature meat locker. But it’s full of blood and dead things.”
Pamela was halffartedly sketching a large vulva, and Green Garey was singing an old sky shanty to himself.
“Arr, blow the man, chuppies, blow the man,
Yaarg! Haarg! Blow, the man
Arr, blow the man, chuppies, blow ‘im hood!
Yaarg! Just gimme some time to blow the man—”
“Green Garey?”
“Yaarg?”
“What is that song again?”
“It’s an old diddy me parrrents used teh sing teh me. A lullarbay, AYE believe they’re called.”
“Okay. Just wondering.”
“…Ye don’t look convinced, Parrmela.”
“Oh, I’m plenty convinced, Green Garey,” Pamela said in a way that made it clear she was anything but convinced.
“Look, it’s just a song! Ye know, like ‘The Swelled Man?’
“Never heard of that either, Green Garey.”
“Nevarrg?” Green Garey gasped, immediately launching into song,
“Thearrrg once was a ship tharrgt put teh sky
The name of th’ ship was the Portly ol’ Gaye
The mens blew ‘im, ‘is mast went up
Blow the bully, maye boys, blow!
Soon maye the swelled man come
The flavarrg of sugarrrred tea with rum
One daye, when arrrg tonguing is done
We'll take anotharrrg breath and blow!”
Pamela blinked rapidly as Green Garey took a deep breath.
Before Green Garey could continue, the door of the outhouse behind them shot off like a champagne cork propelled by shit, hitting Green Garey and sending him flying through the crowd and up over the edge and against the hard wires of the godfight cage.
“Shit! Green Garey!”
Rubberneckers were everywhere in her path, gawking and laughing as the overflow from the outhouse calmed and began a slow crawl across the fourth floor.
“Out of my way! Out of my way!” bellowed Pamela, flashing her badge, “Official Royal Gourd business! Get in my way and get arrested! Godfights are illegal even if they suck I’ll cluck you up!”
Pamela still found herself having to push over plenty of idiots to get to the front and see Green Garey, stuck to the side of the cage, arms and legs outstretched, his parrot dragon fluttering around him in concern. She did not arrest any of them.
As Pamela reached the gap between the end of the floor and the cage, she saw that the younger god was lumbering over towards Green Garey, its wattles jiggling with curiousity.
“Green Garey! Green Garey!” Pamela shouted, reaching for him.
“Hey! The gods is movings!” cried a drunken onlooker.
The god stepped closer and closer to Green Garey, its oppressive modly barn odor terrifying Pamela’s nostrils.
“Green Garey! Quick! Take my hand!”
GOD-A-DOODLE-DOO
The screech of the older god shook the arena. All eyes swiveled to watch, people cheering and teeming with stale adrenaline that had previously been used to recongize how boring the match had been. It took two weak steps towards the younger god, whose beak was inching dangerously close to Green Garey.
“Green Garey! Clucking grab my hand already!” Pamela screamed, leaning forward so that she too almost fell off the side of the floor, eventually grasping Green Garey’s peg leg.
“Parrmela…parrgnter…let go of me leg…yaarg…”
“NO!”
The young god’s beak clasped around Green Garey and pulled him and Pamela through the cage fencing like they were pillow stuffing. Then it whipped them up in the air and swung open its jaws.
Pamela and Green Garey yelled at eachother as they swirled in the air like acrobats that were about to become hors d'oeuvres.
“Paaarrrrmelaaaa! WhAYE did ye not listen? How will we find those witches now?”
“You mean those skyrates, Green Garey.”
The older god dashed towards the young god like a feathery elephant on blood thinners.
The man who had earlier called Jeffrey with a G just ‘Jeffrey’ was still laying in the middle of the arena, and looked jealously at Pamela and Green Garey.
“What am I, minced liver?”
CRUNCH
The man was flattened by one of the old god’s claws as it leapt forth and slammed into the young god, sending it reeling back against the cage.
Pamela and Green Garey watched below them in awe.
“Yaarg! We mAYEght get outta this one yet, parrrgtner.”
They landed semi-perfectly atop the old god’s head, each flanking its stinky off-red comb.
“Yaarg! Me godccyx!”
“Ditto, Green Garey. Ditto.”
They held on to the older god’s scalp for dear life as it reeled up to strike the young god. Their weight on its head pulled back its eyelids, giving it a bit of a demonic eye popping effect that nearly terrified the other god into backing off immediately.
“Oh my cock! Look at that god!” cried a spectator with glee.
“I’m still alive!” crackled the voice of the flattened man in the center of the arena in an obvious attempt to upstage some of the action.
CRUNCH SQUISH
The young god promptly trampled him twice.
***
Werthers opened his eyes. Even his eyelids were in pain. Wherever he was, it was dark and foul smelling. He felt like he was covered in clammy weighted blankets with bad body odor.
He was in a pile of bodies.
Werthers tried to scream, but all that could come out of his horse throat was a small creaking that almost resembled a piglet oinking.
“Ah! Werthenwald! I had almost begun to believe you were actually dead! What a brilliant job you’ve done, I must say,” chortled the warm voice of officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish, who was emphatically snacking on a sweet smelling summer sausage.
Werthers looked around to see officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish laying to his left in the pile of bodies, which was odd enough, but what gripped him was the sight of officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish’s scrumptious sausage. It made Werthers’ aware of the infinite void vast as inner space currently within his stomach.
“What are you doing here, officer seargeant—”
“Ah-ah-ah! You mean Herbert. Methinketh you got so in character what with the being a corpse and all that you forget how deep I’m in this cover.”
“Well—”
“So deep. So deep inside this warm, wet cover.”
“Okay.”
“Say, what do you think of my ‘dead face,’ Werthiggins?”
Officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish froze, eyes and mouth wide open. Chunks of half chewed sausage spilled from his lips. A gnat landed on his left cheek, muttered halffarted curses at them both, and then left.
Officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish snapped out of it with a roaring laughter, “Well? That’s kind of what you looked like before you came to!” He froze again in the same pose for a moment, then burst back into laughs. “Absolutely marvelous!”
Werthers sighed as officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish paused his cackling to finish off his sausage.
“Ah. Such a delicious pop of flavor. Wertherfrummins, you must try one of those sausages sometime if you get the chance.”
Werthers heard the crackle of a light flame, and then a light puff, and then something long and unecessary bumping against the corpse pile to his right. Slowly, a lit cigarette inched through a pile of bodies, nearly poking Werthers in the nose.
“If that youfe, Wormy?”
Werthers turned to look at officer seargant Seargeant Officer Jarmish, only to watch him rolling off into the distance through a sea of corpses.
“Gurthf to Wormy, hello?”
“Yes. Hello. I’m here.”
“Thank the cluffing chickenf for that! I gotf to fay, youfe if doing a real bang up job, Wormy. You may be the beft partner in crime me and Ronaldo hafe efer had!”
“Th-thank you.”
“Hamn, Wormy, I really thought youfe waf dead for a while there! But here you are, laying in thif pile of dead bodief with me, and you aren’t even maimed! Youfe’fe gotta teach me how ya do it one of thefe dayf. Anywhatfit, letf touch bafe before we kick thif nefft ftage of the plan into gear. The firft, and probably the moft important thing to keep in mind confidering our current fituation if that—”
CCRKCKRKCRFFKAK
A loud metal door crackled open. Werthers heard people scrambling inside, then someone slam the door shut.
“Cluck off Biscuit Pisser! You’ve been staring at my tits this whole time you know I can’t help it that they’re huge Biscuit Pisser but you know what else I can help you lose your eyesight all I need is two fingers I’ll gauge your clucking eyes out!”
“Wah wah wah magic bad for me and my boobies blah blah blah cluck you Shitface cluck you sideways!”
“Hey um hate to interrupt but why does it smell so horrible in here? Like a slaughterhouse?”
“Oh shut up Krumbumbum just shut the cluck up I swear you clucking women with your bodies and your senses of smell I mean cock what the hen is wrong with you seriously?”
“You better back off Biscuit Pisser or maybe I’ll turn you into a woman.”
“Don’t you clucking call me Biscuit Pisser!”
“Hey, Biscuit Pisser, lighten up chuppy, it’s not a big deal.”
“Yes it is a big deal Shitface it is a very big deal! She was not there when the turtles ran out of seaweed! How can she have the audacity to call me Biscuit Pisser?”
“I know, Biscuit Pisser, I know, I know.”
“Thanks Shitface. Anywhatsit, it smells like a slaughterhouse because that’s essentially where we are!”
Werthers would’ve peed himself if he weren’t as he was just discovering severely dehydrated.
“Well, not really, actually, because everybody’s already dead, so it’s more like a room temperature meat locker. But it’s full of blood and dead things.”
