“What’re you all so scared of? It was just some glitter!” Krumbunculus shrugged. Everyone continued to scream. “Oh come on! You didn’t have even half this reaction when I turned Sir Broderick into a lady and that was much more impressive if you ask me.”
“Um, Krumbumbu—Krumbunculus?” Broderica warbled, gesturing to the humongous chicken looming over her as embery bits of curtain unpleasantly landed on her tits. “Ugh.”
“What do you want, woman?” Krumbunculus swung around and shrieked like a banshee. Then, he shook himself sane. “Wait a second. Is that our chicken?”
“Honestly?” Broderica interrupted herself from chugging another flask, “Probably. Just our luck. But a better question is, is that our Biscuit Pisser on its head?”
“What’s up, mothercluckers?!” Biscuit Pisser shouted as she gleefully glided down the side of the chicken as if it were not a chicken at all but instead a water slide. “Oh cluck that’s gonna give me rope burn.”
“How could that give you rope burn, Biscuit Pisser?” vitched Broderica, “It’s a clucking chicken, not some sort of large feathery line of rope.”
“Stranger things have happened, Shitface. Stranger things have happened,” Biscuit Pisser smirked, then looked over at Krumbunculus. Without a second thought she leapt from the stage like a leopard and pounced on him, clawing and slapping and beating him incessantly. “You clucking bass turd!!”
“Oow! Biscuit Pisser! Ouch! Please! Oow! Stop it! Ouchies!!”
“Well this is entertaining,” Broderica proclaimed, popping open yet another flask and chucking her old one at the audience. As luck would have it, Thurmsabold was just recovering from his earlier groin trauma at this moment and the hurling flask managed to shatter over his head and incapacitate him once again.
Biscuit Pisser, satisfied with Krumbunculus’ pitiful, weaping face, climbed off him and kicked him in the balls. “And that’s for having balls. Asshole.”
Biscuit Pisser climbed back up on the stage and rejoined Broderica, leaning on a chicken leg and stroking it proudly.
“So what was all that mess for again, Biscuit Pisser?” Broderica mused, inspecting the chicken leg herself. “Imagine getting this shit fried. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Oh don’t even go there with Brumhilda, Shitface.”
“You named it?”
“Don’t you clucking judge me. And as for me beating Krumbumbum, or I guess Krumbunculus like he was an angry pillow, I did that because seeing his ugly man face reminded me of that time he literally liquidated all my assets and locked me into that stupid timeshare.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”
“Me too, until now. Hamn, I’ve gotta say, I liked him better as a woman. Now he just seems…gross.”
“I mean even when he was a she he was pretty gross. What with all the toplessness.”
“Fair that’s fair. But also not because at least I got to see a topless woman instead of a topless old man.”
“Oh, go shove a biscuit in your pants and piss on it vitch,” spat Krumbunculus.
“Hey you’re not supposed to bring that up…jerk…”
“Yeah that was kinda shitty. Also it’s not as cute Krumbunculus calling her a vitch when you’re an old man in a torn leotard instead of a flat chested vitch.”
“Can it with the hot takes Broderica and drink your drinks you clucking viper.”
“Oooh did I hurt your magicings Krumbunculus?”
“Vitch I have half a mind to turn myself back into a women and beat the shit out of you.”
“Do it you won’t.”
“AVAST YE!!” screamed the captain, standing on top of the table and stamping his feet maniacally, “WHAT IN THE CLUCK IS WRONG WITH YE THREE?! GET THIS COCKHAMNED CHICKEN OFF ME CLUCKING SHIP!! BLITSY ME BOY PUT THE FEAR O’ COCK INTO ‘EM!”
Blistwald stood up, cracked his knuckles and whipped out two steel morningstars. He began spinning them around in opposing pinwheel fashions, then lit them on fire with the help of a goon and spun them faster and faster.
Seeing this flame, the chicken felt inspired and let loose another burst of flame from its chomping beak, igniting a stained glass chandeliere, which fell and landed on the hooded ostrich jockey, who had pushed through the crowd into an attempt at attacking someone, anyone. Instead, he died, with his last sight being two strange characters in the shadows dragging the ostrich from earlier offstage. One of them was smoking a cigarette from a long, unshapely holder.
Blitswald had stared at the chandeliere and its victim for so long he’d forgotten about the two flaming morningstars and was immediately pummeled in the cranium by both of them. He fell to the floor in a flaming heap.
“Wow I’m scared,” cooed Krumbumbum, who was a woman now. She climbed up on the stage and marveled at how less disturbing her leotard looked.
“Why are you a clucking woman again woman?!” vitched Broderica.
“I don’t know I felt left out? And the leotard was really chaffing. And it got rid of all the pain I was in from Biscuit Pisser bludgeoning my ballsack.”
“Where’s the captain running off to?”
Broderica and Krumbumbum turned to look where Biscuit Pisser was pointing to see the captain disappear into the hazy crowds, half of which were leaving in disappointment, murmuring about the misleading lack of dancing men and general stagnation of the overall performance, especially considering that now Mister Magick was a woman of all things.
“Clucking vussy,” gargled Broderica as she finished off another flask.
“Where do you keep getting those things?”
“That’s for me to know and you not to know and Krumbumbum to possibly have an idea of but never to totally be certain of.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSHKHKKKK THMMPF
A stage light had just fallen from the ceiling and bludgeoned a violinist in the pit orchestra to death.
“Holy shit,” Broderica spat out some liquor.
“Ehhh ehhehehhehhhehhhh ehhhehhehhehhehhhh…” a bile enducing voice cackled from the squeaking catwalks.
“Oh my cock,” sighed Krumbumbum, “Is it that clucking blob guy again?”
“Ehhhehhhehhehhehhh!”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
This light fell and broke through the stage floor right next to Krumbumbum, causing her to jump and shriek. Her leotard characteristically unhinged itself from her shoulder and flopped down. The crowd booed at her toplessness until she covered herself once again.
“Well shit. It does look like it’s that awful blob guy again. Right at eye level with the chicken, too. If only somebody was riding the chicken, then they could just yank its head around til it pecked him to death or something.”
Broderica stopped drinking and glared at Biscuit Pisser. “Why in the cluck were you looking at me when you said that?! You were the one that came in riding the chicken! How is it my fault you jumped off it? Why not ask Krumbumbum to cast the spell to let you hump your way back on top of it?”
EEEEEEEOW PPSFFKTKKSKHSKHKHKSHKKK
This light fell right beside Broderica’s outstretched arm, and took her half full flask to the ground with it.
“You clucking scoundrel!” Broderica fumed at Biscuit Pisser, trouncing up to her, “Look at what you just did! I hadn’t finished my drink and now I’ll never get to! Hood job, asshole!”
“Eeeehhehhhehhhhh ehhehhehheh EEHHHHEhehhehh EHhhehehe EEheheheheHEHEHEheheheHEHEHEhehehEHEHEhehHEHeHEHHEEEEEEEHHEHEHHEHHEEEEE—”
“SHUT THE CLUCKING HEN UP!” Broderica, filled with rage, ran to the side of the stage and started climbing up a pull rope. “I’M COMING FOR YOU YOU BIG, BLOBBY, VOMIT INDUCING BASS TURD! AND I’M GOING TO CLUCKING KILL YOU!!”
Biscuit Pisser turned to Krumbumbum. “What’s she got up her ass?”
“I don’t know. Probably gas or something.”
“Also, what’s the deal with you being a man again back there? Do you know how to change us back?”
“Huh? Oh, yea, it’s silly honestly. You know the rapid hormone change could have something to do with Broderica’s—”
“YOU CAN’T RUN OR HIDE YOU DISGROSSTING FREAK OF NATURE! I’M READY TO FIND OUT IF IT’S POSSIBLE TO DISEMBOWEL YOU!!”
“—erm, with her moodiness.”
“I see.”
KKSKKSHHKTKK KSKKKHHKK PTKKCKKCKSKKKHKHKK
“What in the hen is she doing up there?”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
Another light, and another near miss.
“Ehhhehehhe ehhhehehheh EEHEHEehheehhheeehhh!”
“SHUT UP!”
KKKSHSKSHHSKHSKSHKDHKHTKHKHF PTPPTPPPDKKDJD
“JUST SHUT THE CLUCK UP I HATE YOUR HORRIBLE VOICE!”
“EEHHHHEH EHEHEHHEHEEEHHHHH!”
Biscuit Pisser squinted. “I can’t really see what’s going on up there.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“Biscuit Pisser, would you like me to turn you back into a man now?”
KKSKSKS KFKFFKKKDKKK KFKPKFKFSP FFKKFFFSSHHH
“Biscuit Pisser?”
“Shhh I’m thinking.”
KKKSKKKSKFF KSKKSKKFKKKKK
“EHHEHHHEHHEHH EHHEHHEHHH!”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“SHUT UP SHUT UPP SHUTUPUPUP I HATE YOUR CLUCKING LAUGH YOU CLUCKING WEASEL!!”
KKSKHHFHFF KSKKSHHSH KKKKKSKHSKSSJDKJDKFF
“Nah, I think I’m hood as is, Krumbumbum. Thanks, though.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“Really?”
KKKSKFKFKFKFFKKK KFKFSHHSHH KSKHFHSHHHHH
“WHERE ARE YOU WHERE TO CLUCK ARE YOU I’M GOING TO FIND YOU AND WRING YOUR NONEXISTENT NECK I CLUCKING SWEAR!”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“Yea I mean I kinda dig this I mean I still have my mustache so like what’s the big deal ya know?”
KKFKFSHHH KFKFKKSHFHHHH KSKHFHFHHHH
Krumbumbum blinked rapidly in confusion. “Okay then, Barroness.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“STOP JUMPING BETWEEN THE THREE DIFFRENT CATWALKS HOW CAN YOU EVEN JUMP HOW DO YOU EVEN MOVE WHAT EVEN ARE YOU YOU CLUCKING MONSTER?!”
“If only I was an actual Barroness. Talk about the dream, am I right?”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“EHHEHEHHEHH EHEHHEHEEHHH EHHHEHEEHH!”
“IT’S NOT CLUCKING FUNNY!”
“Maybe she’s on the rag.”
KKSKSKKKFFF KSKKSKKFKFKKK KFSSHHHHH
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“That wasn’t funny, Biscuit Pisser.”
“It wasn’t meant to be?”
BU BU BUKAWWWFSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
EEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKKKKFFSHHHHHHH
This time, the light that fell included Broderica clutching to it. Her dress was severely singed, barely covering her titties. Her skin was covered in soot.
“H-h-holy cl-clucking hen,” Broderica trembled, shaking pulling herself up from a mess of burned debris. “I c-can’t believe that clucking blob man got a-away.”
BMMP BMP BMP BMP BMP BMP BMP BP BP BP BP BPFF
Bones of a skeleton tumbled from the catwalk, hitting Broderica on the head. On observation, they could only have belonged to a bizarre, blob-shaped individual. The skull had three eye sockets for some reason.
“W-well cluck m-me. Guess he d-didn’t get away. Krumbumbum, conjur me up a drink why don’t you.”
“ALCOHOOOL!”
This was a nice gallon jug of rum. Broderica slurped from it graciously.
“I’m so proud of you, Brumhilda,” Biscuit Pisser patted the bird’s leg, “You’ve come so far.”
BU BUKAWFSHHH
Brumhilda singed the top of Biscuit Pisser’s head with a small puff of friendly fire.
“Um, Biscuit Pisser?”
“What?”
Krumbumbum pointed at Biscuit Pisser’s hair, which was gently burning.
“Oh shit. Is my bun clucked up?”
“You could say that.”
Biscuit Pisser patted her bun, somehow missing the flames on her head completely. “Huh. It feels fine to me.”
“Biscuit Pisser,” chuckled Broderica as she gargled rum, “Your clucking head is on fire.”
“FOR PETUNIAAAA!!” shrieked a shrill voice as a cloaked figure rushed through an obstacle course of stray tables and chairs to jump onstage and raise a dagger at Biscuit Pisser’s neck.
“Why are you pointing that dagger at me you clucking knob?!” Biscuit Pisser squinted at the small, shriveled ostrich handler. “It was our lady miss nipple flasher over there that killed the damn thing anyways!”
“Eh-what?” whined the man, the dagger quaking anxiously.
“AAAAAAIEEE!” screamed a crazed woman with smeared makeup as she ran onstage towards Krumbumbum. “You ruined my clucking show you flat chested vitch!!”
PSHOMMMMMMMM
A huge, flaming boulder shot through the faraway doorway, steamrolled the woman and Petunia’s ex-owner, and smacked into the crumbling remains of the back of the stage, causing Brumhilda to jump and Broderica to spill some rum.
“What in the clucking hen was that?” jabbered a near topless Krumbumbum.
“Well,” Broderica hacked, “it looked like a huge, flaming boulder.”
“What’re you all so scared of? It was just some glitter!” Krumbunculus shrugged. Everyone continued to scream. “Oh come on! You didn’t have even half this reaction when I turned Sir Broderick into a lady and that was much more impressive if you ask me.”
“Um, Krumbumbu—Krumbunculus?” Broderica warbled, gesturing to the humongous chicken looming over her as embery bits of curtain unpleasantly landed on her tits. “Ugh.”
“What do you want, woman?” Krumbunculus swung around and shrieked like a banshee. Then, he shook himself sane. “Wait a second. Is that our chicken?”
“Honestly?” Broderica interrupted herself from chugging another flask, “Probably. Just our luck. But a better question is, is that our Biscuit Pisser on its head?”
“What’s up, mothercluckers?!” Biscuit Pisser shouted as she gleefully glided down the side of the chicken as if it were not a chicken at all but instead a water slide. “Oh cluck that’s gonna give me rope burn.”
“How could that give you rope burn, Biscuit Pisser?” vitched Broderica, “It’s a clucking chicken, not some sort of large feathery line of rope.”
“Stranger things have happened, Shitface. Stranger things have happened,” Biscuit Pisser smirked, then looked over at Krumbunculus. Without a second thought she leapt from the stage like a leopard and pounced on him, clawing and slapping and beating him incessantly. “You clucking bass turd!!”
“Oow! Biscuit Pisser! Ouch! Please! Oow! Stop it! Ouchies!!”
“Well this is entertaining,” Broderica proclaimed, popping open yet another flask and chucking her old one at the audience. As luck would have it, Thurmsabold was just recovering from his earlier groin trauma at this moment and the hurling flask managed to shatter over his head and incapacitate him once again.
Biscuit Pisser, satisfied with Krumbunculus’ pitiful, weaping face, climbed off him and kicked him in the balls. “And that’s for having balls. Asshole.”
Biscuit Pisser climbed back up on the stage and rejoined Broderica, leaning on a chicken leg and stroking it proudly.
“So what was all that mess for again, Biscuit Pisser?” Broderica mused, inspecting the chicken leg herself. “Imagine getting this shit fried. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Oh don’t even go there with Brumhilda, Shitface.”
“You named it?”
“Don’t you clucking judge me. And as for me beating Krumbumbum, or I guess Krumbunculus like he was an angry pillow, I did that because seeing his ugly man face reminded me of that time he literally liquidated all my assets and locked me into that stupid timeshare.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”
“Me too, until now. Hamn, I’ve gotta say, I liked him better as a woman. Now he just seems…gross.”
“I mean even when he was a she he was pretty gross. What with all the toplessness.”
“Fair that’s fair. But also not because at least I got to see a topless woman instead of a topless old man.”
“Oh, go shove a biscuit in your pants and piss on it vitch,” spat Krumbunculus.
“Hey you’re not supposed to bring that up…jerk…”
“Yeah that was kinda shitty. Also it’s not as cute Krumbunculus calling her a vitch when you’re an old man in a torn leotard instead of a flat chested vitch.”
“Can it with the hot takes Broderica and drink your drinks you clucking viper.”
“Oooh did I hurt your magicings Krumbunculus?”
“Vitch I have half a mind to turn myself back into a women and beat the shit out of you.”
“Do it you won’t.”
“AVAST YE!!” screamed the captain, standing on top of the table and stamping his feet maniacally, “WHAT IN THE CLUCK IS WRONG WITH YE THREE?! GET THIS COCKHAMNED CHICKEN OFF ME CLUCKING SHIP!! BLITSY ME BOY PUT THE FEAR O’ COCK INTO ‘EM!”
Blistwald stood up, cracked his knuckles and whipped out two steel morningstars. He began spinning them around in opposing pinwheel fashions, then lit them on fire with the help of a goon and spun them faster and faster.
Seeing this flame, the chicken felt inspired and let loose another burst of flame from its chomping beak, igniting a stained glass chandeliere, which fell and landed on the hooded ostrich jockey, who had pushed through the crowd into an attempt at attacking someone, anyone. Instead, he died, with his last sight being two strange characters in the shadows dragging the ostrich from earlier offstage. One of them was smoking a cigarette from a long, unshapely holder.
Blitswald had stared at the chandeliere and its victim for so long he’d forgotten about the two flaming morningstars and was immediately pummeled in the cranium by both of them. He fell to the floor in a flaming heap.
“Wow I’m scared,” cooed Krumbumbum, who was a woman now. She climbed up on the stage and marveled at how less disturbing her leotard looked.
“Why are you a clucking woman again woman?!” vitched Broderica.
“I don’t know I felt left out? And the leotard was really chaffing. And it got rid of all the pain I was in from Biscuit Pisser bludgeoning my ballsack.”
“Where’s the captain running off to?”
Broderica and Krumbumbum turned to look where Biscuit Pisser was pointing to see the captain disappear into the hazy crowds, half of which were leaving in disappointment, murmuring about the misleading lack of dancing men and general stagnation of the overall performance, especially considering that now Mister Magick was a woman of all things.
“Clucking vussy,” gargled Broderica as she finished off another flask.
“Where do you keep getting those things?”
“That’s for me to know and you not to know and Krumbumbum to possibly have an idea of but never to totally be certain of.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSHKHKKKK THMMPF
A stage light had just fallen from the ceiling and bludgeoned a violinist in the pit orchestra to death.
“Holy shit,” Broderica spat out some liquor.
“Ehhh ehhehehhehhhehhhh ehhhehhehhehhehhhh…” a bile enducing voice cackled from the squeaking catwalks.
“Oh my cock,” sighed Krumbumbum, “Is it that clucking blob guy again?”
“Ehhhehhhehhehhehhh!”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
This light fell and broke through the stage floor right next to Krumbumbum, causing her to jump and shriek. Her leotard characteristically unhinged itself from her shoulder and flopped down. The crowd booed at her toplessness until she covered herself once again.
“Well shit. It does look like it’s that awful blob guy again. Right at eye level with the chicken, too. If only somebody was riding the chicken, then they could just yank its head around til it pecked him to death or something.”
Broderica stopped drinking and glared at Biscuit Pisser. “Why in the cluck were you looking at me when you said that?! You were the one that came in riding the chicken! How is it my fault you jumped off it? Why not ask Krumbumbum to cast the spell to let you hump your way back on top of it?”
EEEEEEEOW PPSFFKTKKSKHSKHKHKSHKKK
This light fell right beside Broderica’s outstretched arm, and took her half full flask to the ground with it.
“You clucking scoundrel!” Broderica fumed at Biscuit Pisser, trouncing up to her, “Look at what you just did! I hadn’t finished my drink and now I’ll never get to! Hood job, asshole!”
“Eeeehhehhhehhhhh ehhehhehheh EEHHHHEhehhehh EHhhehehe EEheheheheHEHEHEheheheHEHEHEhehehEHEHEhehHEHeHEHHEEEEEEEHHEHEHHEHHEEEEE—”
“SHUT THE CLUCKING HEN UP!” Broderica, filled with rage, ran to the side of the stage and started climbing up a pull rope. “I’M COMING FOR YOU YOU BIG, BLOBBY, VOMIT INDUCING BASS TURD! AND I’M GOING TO CLUCKING KILL YOU!!”
Biscuit Pisser turned to Krumbumbum. “What’s she got up her ass?”
“I don’t know. Probably gas or something.”
“Also, what’s the deal with you being a man again back there? Do you know how to change us back?”
“Huh? Oh, yea, it’s silly honestly. You know the rapid hormone change could have something to do with Broderica’s—”
“YOU CAN’T RUN OR HIDE YOU DISGROSSTING FREAK OF NATURE! I’M READY TO FIND OUT IF IT’S POSSIBLE TO DISEMBOWEL YOU!!”
“—erm, with her moodiness.”
“I see.”
KKSKKSHHKTKK KSKKKHHKK PTKKCKKCKSKKKHKHKK
“What in the hen is she doing up there?”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
Another light, and another near miss.
“Ehhhehehhe ehhhehehheh EEHEHEehheehhheeehhh!”
“SHUT UP!”
KKKSHSKSHHSKHSKSHKDHKHTKHKHF PTPPTPPPDKKDJD
“JUST SHUT THE CLUCK UP I HATE YOUR HORRIBLE VOICE!”
“EEHHHHEH EHEHEHHEHEEEHHHHH!”
Biscuit Pisser squinted. “I can’t really see what’s going on up there.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“Biscuit Pisser, would you like me to turn you back into a man now?”
KKSKSKS KFKFFKKKDKKK KFKPKFKFSP FFKKFFFSSHHH
“Biscuit Pisser?”
“Shhh I’m thinking.”
KKKSKKKSKFF KSKKSKKFKKKKK
“EHHEHHHEHHEHH EHHEHHEHHH!”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“SHUT UP SHUT UPP SHUTUPUPUP I HATE YOUR CLUCKING LAUGH YOU CLUCKING WEASEL!!”
KKSKHHFHFF KSKKSHHSH KKKKKSKHSKSSJDKJDKFF
“Nah, I think I’m hood as is, Krumbumbum. Thanks, though.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“Really?”
KKKSKFKFKFKFFKKK KFKFSHHSHH KSKHFHSHHHHH
“WHERE ARE YOU WHERE TO CLUCK ARE YOU I’M GOING TO FIND YOU AND WRING YOUR NONEXISTENT NECK I CLUCKING SWEAR!”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“Yea I mean I kinda dig this I mean I still have my mustache so like what’s the big deal ya know?”
KKFKFSHHH KFKFKKSHFHHHH KSKHFHFHHHH
Krumbumbum blinked rapidly in confusion. “Okay then, Barroness.”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“STOP JUMPING BETWEEN THE THREE DIFFRENT CATWALKS HOW CAN YOU EVEN JUMP HOW DO YOU EVEN MOVE WHAT EVEN ARE YOU YOU CLUCKING MONSTER?!”
“If only I was an actual Barroness. Talk about the dream, am I right?”
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“EHHEHEHHEHH EHEHHEHEEHHH EHHHEHEEHH!”
“IT’S NOT CLUCKING FUNNY!”
“Maybe she’s on the rag.”
KKSKSKKKFFF KSKKSKKFKFKKK KFSSHHHHH
EEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKK
“That wasn’t funny, Biscuit Pisser.”
“It wasn’t meant to be?”
BU BU BUKAWWWFSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
EEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOW PSFKTKKHKKKKFFSHHHHHHH
This time, the light that fell included Broderica clutching to it. Her dress was severely singed, barely covering her titties. Her skin was covered in soot.
“H-h-holy cl-clucking hen,” Broderica trembled, shaking pulling herself up from a mess of burned debris. “I c-can’t believe that clucking blob man got a-away.”
BMMP BMP BMP BMP BMP BMP BMP BP BP BP BP BPFF
Bones of a skeleton tumbled from the catwalk, hitting Broderica on the head. On observation, they could only have belonged to a bizarre, blob-shaped individual. The skull had three eye sockets for some reason.
“W-well cluck m-me. Guess he d-didn’t get away. Krumbumbum, conjur me up a drink why don’t you.”
“ALCOHOOOL!”
This was a nice gallon jug of rum. Broderica slurped from it graciously.
“I’m so proud of you, Brumhilda,” Biscuit Pisser patted the bird’s leg, “You’ve come so far.”
BU BUKAWFSHHH
Brumhilda singed the top of Biscuit Pisser’s head with a small puff of friendly fire.
“Um, Biscuit Pisser?”
“What?”
Krumbumbum pointed at Biscuit Pisser’s hair, which was gently burning.
“Oh shit. Is my bun clucked up?”
“You could say that.”
Biscuit Pisser patted her bun, somehow missing the flames on her head completely. “Huh. It feels fine to me.”
“Biscuit Pisser,” chuckled Broderica as she gargled rum, “Your clucking head is on fire.”
“FOR PETUNIAAAA!!” shrieked a shrill voice as a cloaked figure rushed through an obstacle course of stray tables and chairs to jump onstage and raise a dagger at Biscuit Pisser’s neck.
“Why are you pointing that dagger at me you clucking knob?!” Biscuit Pisser squinted at the small, shriveled ostrich handler. “It was our lady miss nipple flasher over there that killed the damn thing anyways!”
“Eh-what?” whined the man, the dagger quaking anxiously.
“AAAAAAIEEE!” screamed a crazed woman with smeared makeup as she ran onstage towards Krumbumbum. “You ruined my clucking show you flat chested vitch!!”
PSHOMMMMMMMM
A huge, flaming boulder shot through the faraway doorway, steamrolled the woman and Petunia’s ex-owner, and smacked into the crumbling remains of the back of the stage, causing Brumhilda to jump and Broderica to spill some rum.
“What in the clucking hen was that?” jabbered a near topless Krumbumbum.
“Well,” Broderica hacked, “it looked like a huge, flaming boulder.”
