A speckle of light woke the donkey from its slumber. He lifted his head cautiously, hoping to cock that no one was coming in to terrorize him. The door to his prison was lightly cracked.
He looked to the beady eyes of his taxidermied toucan compatriot. They were just as large, googley and glazed as ever. Reassuring.
Are we ever gonna get out of here, Samwise? the donkey had gotten into the habit of calling the toucan Samwise in their imaginary conversations.
Bugger off you chalky pint of lipstick! Samwise was a bit of a firecracker. How am I supposed to get any shut eye with you bleating around at all hours?
Um, Samwise, how can you call it shut eye when your eyes are always open, rather widely, might I add?
Um, I don’t know Assafrass, the donkey liked being called Assafrass, it was like his actual name, Sassafrass, but more relevant, How can you have a conversation with me when we’re both nonspeaking animals and also I’m dead and stuffed full of cotton?
I actually think you might be stuffed full of magically synthetic fabric, Samwise.
The cluck? There’s no way! And how would you know anywhatsit Assafrass?
Heh…well, Samwise…I, ehrm…I may have nibbled your rump a little a while ago and popped a little of your stuffing out.
You clucking bass turd no you didn’t! Oh if I could move I would check my rump right now and then give you a pecking you shan’t never forget!
So would I forget the pecking or not? You threw a double negative in there.
Oh go throw yourself off the ship into the sky, you ass.
You know Samwise I could consider that hate speech in some jurisdictions.
I could consider you hateable in all jurisdictions!
Yes, they were hood chups indeed.
Look, Samwise, I didn’t mean to nibble on you, it’s just, I’m so hungry.
Go get yourself killed,. skinned and stuffed and then talk to me about hunger!
No thanks.
Anywhatsit, Assafrass, if you really are hungry, why not sneak out and see what the skyrates are munching on? The door’s wide open.
That door is not wide open Samwise it’s lightly cracked. Do you have cataracts or something?
You’d have cataracts too if you never got to close your eyes!
Assafrass considered this, but it made his head hurt, so he regarded the door. It did not seem that anyone was coming inside. If anything, it was probably open by accident. A fairly opportune blunder.
Okay, Samwise, I’m going to go. Assafrass tried to move, but noticed his leg was trembling. He gulped. A-as long as you come with me.
Did you just stutter? How did you stutter we’re imaginiarily talking and somehow here you are stuttering? What in the cluck is that about?
Look Samwise will you come with me or not?
Look Assafrass do I have much a choice? I’m an inanimate object at this point! Privy to all your sick, disgrossting whims!
Assafrass, realizing this was indeed true, grasped Samwise lightly in his jaws.
Eugh! How repulsive! Don’t you get any wise ideas now! I may be inanimate but that doesn’t mean I want to be your dinner!
Assafrass peeked through the crack in the door, looking up and down and left and right and all those over and over again, mainly seeing just about nothing.
Oh come on Samwise you know I wouldn’t do that.
Why did you clucking imagine that your voice was muffled like you had me in your mouth when you said that? That’s so heinously unecessary! It’s all imaginary talk you could talk like anything you can imagine to me and you choose your own hamned voice muffled by my hamned body. You know your problem, Assafrass? You’ve got no vision.
Assafrass poked his head out of the bunker and gave the scenery a better look. He could still barely see shit it was so dark, but what he could tell is that nobody was nearby, and if he wanted a chance to snoop around, this was it.
You know Assafrass that’s why you get yourself into these situations. Vision. Lack thereof, that is. I mean you have eyes, that’s for sure, big stupid eyes.
Assafrass sniffed, sniffed, and he sniffed again, accidentally inhaling some mucus and an extremely rude gnat that promptly screeched obscenities at him as it flew out his mouth. But what lingered in Assafrass’ mind was the sweet smell of something strong and fermented.
Cock, if eyes are the window to the soul you ought to keep yours closed, Assafrass. Your soul’s probably so ugly because of your lack of vision. Or is it the other way around? Cluck I’m going to sound like an evangelical chickenshit if I keep going with that train of thought.
Anywhatsit where in the bloody hen are we going? Are you just ambling around? Have you no fear with a taxidermied toucan in your mouth? Am
I just some sort of strange pacifier to you, Assafrass? Come on I know you can talk back what with the imagining things and all that and my voice being imaginary come on Assafrass talk back to me you bass turd.
Then, Assafrass stopped in his tracks. At the end of a short wooden staircase was a door, and from that door emanated the inmistakable sounds and smells of debauchery.
Look over there, Samwise.
Oh cock. I’d rather not learn anything about skyrate nightlife, Assafrass.
And I’d rather you’d stop berating me, but it is what it is. The only place I’ve smelled anything resembling food in is in there. And also the large crates of grain far back near the storage bunker but this is a lot more intriguing don’t you think.
Cock, Assafrass, you’re going to be the postmortem death of me, you know that?
I’m not sure that’s a thing.
Oh it’s a thing.
Assafrass trotted down the stairs and up to the door. Opportunely, it too was lightly cracked. He gingerly pushed his muzzle towards the crack in the door only to magic a sharp sting in, well, his ass.
HHEEEHHH
He let out a half hee-haw, dropping Samwise on the floor.
Hey, watch it there Assafrass! This face is my money maker!
Assafrasss prepared to apologize to Samwise when he was interrupted by the imaginary voice of…a wasp that was flying in front of his face menacingly.
Halt! Who goes there? the wasp’s voice sounded bizarre, like a squirrel that had long ago taken up chain smoking.
Don’t tell ‘em who we are, Assafrass! Don’t give away our secrets! This creep can’t be trusted!
The wasp flew over to Samwise. Quiet you, or I’ll send you to your postmortem death!
Assafrass blinked.
See, Assafrass, I told you it existed.
Don’t be so smug, Samwise.
Both of you zip it! Now tell me what the cluck you’re up to before I sting the shit out of you!
You already stung me, you jerk, Assafrass whined, magicing his nose swelling and numbing.
Well I’ll sting you again you little twerp! Now answer me cockhamnit!
One second, just give me one second, Assafrass leaned over, grasping Samwise in his mouth.
He’s got a firearm! Aaah! The wasp flew around in frantic figure eights, suddenly stopping with a judder in a previously unseen spider web.
Hah hah ha, laughed a deep baritone, I always said I’d get you in the end, Jones.
Hamn it Henry ya don’t have to do this! Think of all the hood times we’ve had together!
All I can remember is all the times you laughed at me for not really being able to fly while I wished I could suck you dry like a coconut. Looks like I got my wish. The spider crawled from its resting place to the center of the web and methodically sprayed liquid from its asshole all over the wasp. Alright, fancy folks, go on in there. But be careful now, y’all. Those skyrates don’t mess around.
Thanks, Henry, thought Assafrass with imaginary gratitude as he pushed his head through the door.
Inside was a blinding flurrying miasma of lights, glowing, swirling, tantalizing Assafrass to the core, swirling his dirvish and twirling his scurvy.
Assafras promptly vomited profusely as he remembered his youth as a scrappy young donkey with everything to prove. He cursed the other donkeys and their fancy donkey shoes.
Looking up from his vomit retching, Assafrass scanned the room, seeing many a pant with a missing ass cheek in the process. Then he inhaled deeply, smelling for that sweet fermented hoodness that had enraptured his nostrils moments ago.
Hey now, Assafrass, you better watch your clucking nostrils or they might suck up one of my eyeballs!
With his methodically inhalations Assafrass gleamed three things. One, that he had besnoitiosis, which was unrelatd but troubling. Two, that the smell was alcohol, that mystical miralce substance that his missing master so vehemetly coveted. Three, that the cap’n and Blitzy and their associated goons were gambling over at the table to the far left corner, upon which a woman was currently jiggling her naked ass as if it were a match burning her fingers.
Assafrass imaginarily turned to Samwise for guidance, who promptly called him a knitted banana hammock and listed the amount of times Assafrass had accidentally licked his pecker. His pecker referred to his beak, obviously.
Assafrass turned to himself for guidance, and immediately let loose a bout of damp, violent flatulence. He felt an expression of shame dance across his face.
Assafrass turned to the wasp, whom he assumed was named Jones. Then he wondered why he had done that, and turned back to Samwise, who he realized he’d accidentally spit out of his mouth like a well aimed loogie in a dark, moldy corner in perfect eavesdropping distance from the table with which a woman was currently and emphatically scratching her sphincter.
Assafrass took a slow hoofing towards Samwise, who had rolled into a pile of old cigarette butts, some of which had stuck to his brilliant pastel plumage. He stuck to the shadowy, crumbling wall perimeter of the room. Soon, he was only two tail swashes from Samwise, which is when disaster struck.
There was a cat.
A speckle of light woke the donkey from its slumber. He lifted his head cautiously, hoping to cock that no one was coming in to terrorize him. The door to his prison was lightly cracked.
He looked to the beady eyes of his taxidermied toucan compatriot. They were just as large, googley and glazed as ever. Reassuring.
Are we ever gonna get out of here, Samwise? the donkey had gotten into the habit of calling the toucan Samwise in their imaginary conversations.
Bugger off you chalky pint of lipstick! Samwise was a bit of a firecracker. How am I supposed to get any shut eye with you bleating around at all hours?
Um, Samwise, how can you call it shut eye when your eyes are always open, rather widely, might I add?
Um, I don’t know Assafrass, the donkey liked being called Assafrass, it was like his actual name, Sassafrass, but more relevant, How can you have a conversation with me when we’re both nonspeaking animals and also I’m dead and stuffed full of cotton?
I actually think you might be stuffed full of magically synthetic fabric, Samwise.
The cluck? There’s no way! And how would you know anywhatsit Assafrass?
Heh…well, Samwise…I, ehrm…I may have nibbled your rump a little a while ago and popped a little of your stuffing out.
You clucking bass turd no you didn’t! Oh if I could move I would check my rump right now and then give you a pecking you shan’t never forget!
So would I forget the pecking or not? You threw a double negative in there.
Oh go throw yourself off the ship into the sky, you ass.
You know Samwise I could consider that hate speech in some jurisdictions.
I could consider you hateable in all jurisdictions!
Yes, they were hood chups indeed.
Look, Samwise, I didn’t mean to nibble on you, it’s just, I’m so hungry.
Go get yourself killed,. skinned and stuffed and then talk to me about hunger!
No thanks.
Anywhatsit, Assafrass, if you really are hungry, why not sneak out and see what the skyrates are munching on? The door’s wide open.
That door is not wide open Samwise it’s lightly cracked. Do you have cataracts or something?
You’d have cataracts too if you never got to close your eyes!
Assafrass considered this, but it made his head hurt, so he regarded the door. It did not seem that anyone was coming inside. If anything, it was probably open by accident. A fairly opportune blunder.
Okay, Samwise, I’m going to go. Assafrass tried to move, but noticed his leg was trembling. He gulped. A-as long as you come with me.
Did you just stutter? How did you stutter we’re imaginiarily talking and somehow here you are stuttering? What in the cluck is that about?
Look Samwise will you come with me or not?
Look Assafrass do I have much a choice? I’m an inanimate object at this point! Privy to all your sick, disgrossting whims!
Assafrass, realizing this was indeed true, grasped Samwise lightly in his jaws.
Eugh! How repulsive! Don’t you get any wise ideas now! I may be inanimate but that doesn’t mean I want to be your dinner!
Assafrass peeked through the crack in the door, looking up and down and left and right and all those over and over again, mainly seeing just about nothing.
Oh come on Samwise you know I wouldn’t do that.
Why did you clucking imagine that your voice was muffled like you had me in your mouth when you said that? That’s so heinously unecessary! It’s all imaginary talk you could talk like anything you can imagine to me and you choose your own hamned voice muffled by my hamned body. You know your problem, Assafrass? You’ve got no vision.
Assafrass poked his head out of the bunker and gave the scenery a better look. He could still barely see shit it was so dark, but what he could tell is that nobody was nearby, and if he wanted a chance to snoop around, this was it.
You know Assafrass that’s why you get yourself into these situations. Vision. Lack thereof, that is. I mean you have eyes, that’s for sure, big stupid eyes.
Assafrass sniffed, sniffed, and he sniffed again, accidentally inhaling some mucus and an extremely rude gnat that promptly screeched obscenities at him as it flew out his mouth. But what lingered in Assafrass’ mind was the sweet smell of something strong and fermented.
Cock, if eyes are the window to the soul you ought to keep yours closed, Assafrass. Your soul’s probably so ugly because of your lack of vision. Or is it the other way around? Cluck I’m going to sound like an evangelical chickenshit if I keep going with that train of thought.
Anywhatsit where in the bloody hen are we going? Are you just ambling around? Have you no fear with a taxidermied toucan in your mouth? Am
I just some sort of strange pacifier to you, Assafrass? Come on I know you can talk back what with the imagining things and all that and my voice being imaginary come on Assafrass talk back to me you bass turd.
Then, Assafrass stopped in his tracks. At the end of a short wooden staircase was a door, and from that door emanated the inmistakable sounds and smells of debauchery.
Look over there, Samwise.
Oh cock. I’d rather not learn anything about skyrate nightlife, Assafrass.
And I’d rather you’d stop berating me, but it is what it is. The only place I’ve smelled anything resembling food in is in there. And also the large crates of grain far back near the storage bunker but this is a lot more intriguing don’t you think.
Cock, Assafrass, you’re going to be the postmortem death of me, you know that?
I’m not sure that’s a thing.
Oh it’s a thing.
Assafrass trotted down the stairs and up to the door. Opportunely, it too was lightly cracked. He gingerly pushed his muzzle towards the crack in the door only to magic a sharp sting in, well, his ass.
HHEEEHHH
He let out a half hee-haw, dropping Samwise on the floor.
Hey, watch it there Assafrass! This face is my money maker!
Assafrasss prepared to apologize to Samwise when he was interrupted by the imaginary voice of…a wasp that was flying in front of his face menacingly.
Halt! Who goes there? the wasp’s voice sounded bizarre, like a squirrel that had long ago taken up chain smoking.
Don’t tell ‘em who we are, Assafrass! Don’t give away our secrets! This creep can’t be trusted!
The wasp flew over to Samwise. Quiet you, or I’ll send you to your postmortem death!
Assafrass blinked.
See, Assafrass, I told you it existed.
Don’t be so smug, Samwise.
Both of you zip it! Now tell me what the cluck you’re up to before I sting the shit out of you!
You already stung me, you jerk, Assafrass whined, magicing his nose swelling and numbing.
Well I’ll sting you again you little twerp! Now answer me cockhamnit!
One second, just give me one second, Assafrass leaned over, grasping Samwise in his mouth.
He’s got a firearm! Aaah! The wasp flew around in frantic figure eights, suddenly stopping with a judder in a previously unseen spider web.
Hah hah ha, laughed a deep baritone, I always said I’d get you in the end, Jones.
Hamn it Henry ya don’t have to do this! Think of all the hood times we’ve had together!
All I can remember is all the times you laughed at me for not really being able to fly while I wished I could suck you dry like a coconut. Looks like I got my wish. The spider crawled from its resting place to the center of the web and methodically sprayed liquid from its asshole all over the wasp. Alright, fancy folks, go on in there. But be careful now, y’all. Those skyrates don’t mess around.
Thanks, Henry, thought Assafrass with imaginary gratitude as he pushed his head through the door.
Inside was a blinding flurrying miasma of lights, glowing, swirling, tantalizing Assafrass to the core, swirling his dirvish and twirling his scurvy.
Assafras promptly vomited profusely as he remembered his youth as a scrappy young donkey with everything to prove. He cursed the other donkeys and their fancy donkey shoes.
Looking up from his vomit retching, Assafrass scanned the room, seeing many a pant with a missing ass cheek in the process. Then he inhaled deeply, smelling for that sweet fermented hoodness that had enraptured his nostrils moments ago.
Hey now, Assafrass, you better watch your clucking nostrils or they might suck up one of my eyeballs!
With his methodically inhalations Assafrass gleamed three things. One, that he had besnoitiosis, which was unrelatd but troubling. Two, that the smell was alcohol, that mystical miralce substance that his missing master so vehemetly coveted. Three, that the cap’n and Blitzy and their associated goons were gambling over at the table to the far left corner, upon which a woman was currently jiggling her naked ass as if it were a match burning her fingers.
Assafrass imaginarily turned to Samwise for guidance, who promptly called him a knitted banana hammock and listed the amount of times Assafrass had accidentally licked his pecker. His pecker referred to his beak, obviously.
Assafrass turned to himself for guidance, and immediately let loose a bout of damp, violent flatulence. He felt an expression of shame dance across his face.
Assafrass turned to the wasp, whom he assumed was named Jones. Then he wondered why he had done that, and turned back to Samwise, who he realized he’d accidentally spit out of his mouth like a well aimed loogie in a dark, moldy corner in perfect eavesdropping distance from the table with which a woman was currently and emphatically scratching her sphincter.
Assafrass took a slow hoofing towards Samwise, who had rolled into a pile of old cigarette butts, some of which had stuck to his brilliant pastel plumage. He stuck to the shadowy, crumbling wall perimeter of the room. Soon, he was only two tail swashes from Samwise, which is when disaster struck.
There was a cat.
