CRRRRRRNNCH
The ashen wood crumbled under Dorma’s meaty claws as she trudged ahead of her large party of hooded ne’er-do-wells. She took a deep, windless breath of air. Then she snorted and hacked and rasped and convulsed for a moment, having inhaled a copious amount of ash. Her hooded party members turned to eachother, all shrugging, murmuring and doing their best to not take any responsibility for her health.
“Clucking shit! Even the air is against me now,” she hissed, cluching her abdomen. Then, she lurched up, shouting at the air itself, “I WILL CRUSH YOU, YOU BITTER FIEND! VENGEANCE SHALL BE MINE!!”
“Iyus sheeyuh fowuhmin ayut thuwah mowuth?” asked the ostrich jockey from behind his new dark robes.
“Shhh shut up or she’ll hit us again!” whined the gerbilesque timbre of none other than Jeffrey with a G.
“What was that? Who the cluck was talking? Was it one of you?”
“Oh no no wasn’t any of us!” Thurmsabold piped up hopefully. “Must’ve been, er, must’ve been something in the wind, eh?”
“Ah, yes. Something in the wind. Something in the wind indeed,” Dorma nodded calmly, beginning again her trudge forward through the charred remains of the Windless Forest. “Wait a clucking second!”
Her companions, all of whom had been gingerly tiptoeing behind her, froze and stood at attention.
“Wind…wind…Did one of you fart just now?” Dorma snarled, gasping for windless air which itself was now making itself thinner and scarce to her due to fear. “Something smells like shit. Even more than any of you normally do. You know I have a strict anti flatulence policy. All of you bass turds know it! Look at me! Look me in the eye and I will know which one of you broke wind!”
Everyone immediately pointed fingers at a different person. Dorma’s eye twitched and accusatory finger point trembled. Then everyone swapped and pointed at someone else. They failed to agree on who to blame, so Dorma decided they would press on and she would punish them for their insolence at a later date.
After a few staggered steps they were perturbed by the soft, whistling wimperings of a feeble, twang-ridden voice.
“Ugh! Is that one of you?” Dorma growled, “It’s clucking irritating!”
“M’mayuam, e’eyit w’were m’e ‘hwus ‘hwimp’rn’,” warbled a soot covered Windless Forestian. “M’mah n’ames F’Frinkles.”
“Who gives a cluck what your name is?! You’re annoying the absolujte shit out of me! Now tell me what in the hen happened to the Windless Forests before I permanently cluck you up!”
“Ehnow, ehnow, ehmiss ehDorma, ehI ehthink ehthis ehold ehchup ehwould ehappreciate ehit ehif ehyou ehwould—”
“Ehzip ehit you clucking blobby catastrophe! Just because you’re a big blob doesn’t mean you’re scarier than me so don’t even try to boss me the cluck around.”
“M’mayum, a’and s’strayunge b’blawb m’an, an’ a’all yew o’other ch’chups, ah’ah w’waunt y’a t’uh n’nowuh th’thayut th’thuh w’wiyun’lss f’rsts ‘r f’rsts n’ m’mowur! Th’eyur w’was uh f’ahyur!”
“Oh really?” Dorma looked around at the blackened soil, charred trees, and screaming burnt corpses in the distance. “I wasn’t aware.”
“L’liyustn’, a’ah n’nowuh wh’who d’un d’diduhley d’did it!!”
Suddenly a spark lit somewhere deep within the pitch of Dorma’s pupil. She was sensing an opportunity.
“Go on.”
“E’eyut w’weruh th’three w’wuhmen. W’wun o’f ‘m w’was m’ayuhjik ah th’iynk.”
Dorma listened, nodding, smiling crookedly as Frinkles relayed his story. When he finished, she began to cackle.
“Wh’wuyt’s g’owin a’awn? Wh’whayuts s’ f’uynney?”
“Heh heh eh,” Dorma set a strong, painful claw on Frinkles’ shoulder, a glint in her eye and fartburn in her breath, “Let me guess. You seek…revenge.”
A large glob of mucus fell from the sky and squelched itself over Frinkles’ forehead. “N’nowuh? Ah’ dew w’ant tuh f’fahnd th’thuh l’aydies ’n m’make s’uwer th’theyur o’okahy. Th’y d’in’t s’eem t’ b’braight ‘tcha ‘ayusk m’me.”
“Excrete me?” glowered Dorma. “You want to know if they’re okay? After they ruined your stageplay and burnt down your entire homes?”
“Th’theyuh w’weyur p’pretay e’easay o’owun th’uh ah’yus…a’ahyun th’ey w’as r’real s’stewp’d…d’duwmest w’wemin ah’ve e’evur m’meyut ‘fm b’ein h’hawnst w’with y’a…r’reyuhllay c’coodn’t s’see th’theyum h’hayvn m’muwch ah’ahygensay n’ m’meyntl f’fayuhculties eyn g’eneral.”
“You lay in a pit of death and destruction amongst your deceased yet screaming comrades and all you can think about is how unintelligent you assumed these vapid bimbos were and how they might get hurt now that they’ve finished decimating your entire region of our shared nation?”
“Y’yeyus ‘m, th’ayut’s b’bayusicly iyut.”
Dorma threw Frinkles to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“You clucking vussy,” she turned to her goons with an attempted wink before remembering her one-eyedness, “Let’s go see if any of his friends are alive. We’ll see if none of them want any revenge after losing everything.”
Dorma cackled as she walked off. Everyone following her broke out in light, anxious chuckles of their own.
CRRRRRRNNCH
The ashen wood crumbled under Dorma’s meaty claws as she trudged ahead of her large party of hooded ne’er-do-wells. She took a deep, windless breath of air. Then she snorted and hacked and rasped and convulsed for a moment, having inhaled a copious amount of ash. Her hooded party members turned to eachother, all shrugging, murmuring and doing their best to not take any responsibility for her health.
“Clucking shit! Even the air is against me now,” she hissed, cluching her abdomen. Then, she lurched up, shouting at the air itself, “I WILL CRUSH YOU, YOU BITTER FIEND! VENGEANCE SHALL BE MINE!!”
“Iyus sheeyuh fowuhmin ayut thuwah mowuth?” asked the ostrich jockey from behind his new dark robes.
“Shhh shut up or she’ll hit us again!” whined the gerbilesque timbre of none other than Jeffrey with a G.
“What was that? Who the cluck was talking? Was it one of you?”
“Oh no no wasn’t any of us!” Thurmsabold piped up hopefully. “Must’ve been, er, must’ve been something in the wind, eh?”
“Ah, yes. Something in the wind. Something in the wind indeed,” Dorma nodded calmly, beginning again her trudge forward through the charred remains of the Windless Forest. “Wait a clucking second!”
Her companions, all of whom had been gingerly tiptoeing behind her, froze and stood at attention.
“Wind…wind…Did one of you fart just now?” Dorma snarled, gasping for windless air which itself was now making itself thinner and scarce to her due to fear. “Something smells like shit. Even more than any of you normally do. You know I have a strict anti flatulence policy. All of you bass turds know it! Look at me! Look me in the eye and I will know which one of you broke wind!”
Everyone immediately pointed fingers at a different person. Dorma’s eye twitched and accusatory finger point trembled. Then everyone swapped and pointed at someone else. They failed to agree on who to blame, so Dorma decided they would press on and she would punish them for their insolence at a later date.
After a few staggered steps they were perturbed by the soft, whistling wimperings of a feeble, twang-ridden voice.
“Ugh! Is that one of you?” Dorma growled, “It’s clucking irritating!”
“M’mayuam, e’eyit w’were m’e ‘hwus ‘hwimp’rn’,” warbled a soot covered Windless Forestian. “M’mah n’ames F’Frinkles.”
“Who gives a cluck what your name is?! You’re annoying the absolujte shit out of me! Now tell me what in the hen happened to the Windless Forests before I permanently cluck you up!”
“Ehnow, ehnow, ehmiss ehDorma, ehI ehthink ehthis ehold ehchup ehwould ehappreciate ehit ehif ehyou ehwould—”
“Ehzip ehit you clucking blobby catastrophe! Just because you’re a big blob doesn’t mean you’re scarier than me so don’t even try to boss me the cluck around.”
“M’mayum, a’and s’strayunge b’blawb m’an, an’ a’all yew o’other ch’chups, ah’ah w’waunt y’a t’uh n’nowuh th’thayut th’thuh w’wiyun’lss f’rsts ‘r f’rsts n’ m’mowur! Th’eyur w’was uh f’ahyur!”
“Oh really?” Dorma looked around at the blackened soil, charred trees, and screaming burnt corpses in the distance. “I wasn’t aware.”
“L’liyustn’, a’ah n’nowuh wh’who d’un d’diduhley d’did it!!”
Suddenly a spark lit somewhere deep within the pitch of Dorma’s pupil. She was sensing an opportunity.
“Go on.”
“E’eyut w’weruh th’three w’wuhmen. W’wun o’f ‘m w’was m’ayuhjik ah th’iynk.”
Dorma listened, nodding, smiling crookedly as Frinkles relayed his story. When he finished, she began to cackle.
“Wh’wuyt’s g’owin a’awn? Wh’whayuts s’ f’uynney?”
“Heh heh eh,” Dorma set a strong, painful claw on Frinkles’ shoulder, a glint in her eye and fartburn in her breath, “Let me guess. You seek…revenge.”
A large glob of mucus fell from the sky and squelched itself over Frinkles’ forehead. “N’nowuh? Ah’ dew w’ant tuh f’fahnd th’thuh l’aydies ’n m’make s’uwer th’theyur o’okahy. Th’y d’in’t s’eem t’ b’braight ‘tcha ‘ayusk m’me.”
“Excrete me?” glowered Dorma. “You want to know if they’re okay? After they ruined your stageplay and burnt down your entire homes?”
“Th’theyuh w’weyur p’pretay e’easay o’owun th’uh ah’yus…a’ahyun th’ey w’as r’real s’stewp’d…d’duwmest w’wemin ah’ve e’evur m’meyut ‘fm b’ein h’hawnst w’with y’a…r’reyuhllay c’coodn’t s’see th’theyum h’hayvn m’muwch ah’ahygensay n’ m’meyntl f’fayuhculties eyn g’eneral.”
“You lay in a pit of death and destruction amongst your deceased yet screaming comrades and all you can think about is how unintelligent you assumed these vapid bimbos were and how they might get hurt now that they’ve finished decimating your entire region of our shared nation?”
“Y’yeyus ‘m, th’ayut’s b’bayusicly iyut.”
Dorma threw Frinkles to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“You clucking vussy,” she turned to her goons with an attempted wink before remembering her one-eyedness, “Let’s go see if any of his friends are alive. We’ll see if none of them want any revenge after losing everything.”
Dorma cackled as she walked off. Everyone following her broke out in light, anxious chuckles of their own.
