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Not a Fan of Balloon Poodles

From Wentworthshire, I moved to Westingmoormouth and it was there I found Fred. He said he wanted peanut butter, and as it happened I had some in my pocket -- taking some for the journey, but since Mother Fracklestein could not spare a container, I had to contain the peanut butter in my pocket.  
"Here you go, Fred" I said, and extended three fingers of peanut butter.

"Why thank-you" he said, and scraped some of the peanut butter off of my fingers. Apparently he didn't think it odd for me to have peanut butter in my pockets, but was pleased to have his craving sated. He seemed to be preoccupied with his own matters and looked thoughtfully at the horizon, which happened to be the ocean. It just so happened that I was carrying around balloons in my pocket for the purpose of making animals with -- a hobby I picked up to make some extra money.

"You look like the sky, Fred" I said, and Fred looked up at the sky. Then he looked back at me in confusion. "Gloomy," I confirmed.

"Oh. Yes. My wife has just left me for another." And he looked down at the ground.

"How about a balloon animal?" I said, and took out a purple balloon and began blowing it. It wasn't long before a purple poodle was being extended toward Fred, just as the peanut butter had been not five minutes ago.

"A purple poodle?"

"A fine animal."

He took the animal, somewhat hesitantly, and examined it while turning it around. He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. A glazed look came over his eyes while he smiled, a smile, in my opinion, which had gone on too long. I was about to comment on the weather when I saw his nose start to bunch up, and his brow furrow, much like a dog. Then his teeth were out, and I was more than a bit scared.

"What's the matter, Fred?" I asked, and as a reply he chomped down into the sumptuous purple that was Poodle Dog. He shook poodle dog around with his head while the deflated dog was snug in the grip of his jaws.

"Fred! You've gone mad!" He stopped shaking it around and started approaching me with his hands like claws ready to claw out my eyes. He took small steps towards me, pensive ones, and hunched down a bit, further enhancing his animal like appearance. He started growling, which almost let loose the poodle, but it managed to hang from a space in his teeth. 

"Fred!" I cried, "Have you no shame!" But Fred couldn't be reached with my human words. Something had happened to him. My only choice now was to run. I could hear Fred grunting behind me. I imagined him also frothing at the mouth, red of eye. I could almost feel the heat of his breath on my neck as I ran -- His legs quite the pumping machines themselves. Although I didn't want to, I looked back and saw something similar to my imaginings, but instead of Fred being covered with hair, or fur, he was wearing a tweed jacket and casual pants. At that moment I seriously feared for my life, but could not help but think that in a few months, maybe days, I would look back on this and laugh.

 Fred really was quite sedate most of the time. I've met him at the pub a few times, and there I saw him make bad jokes, but that was the most I've seen him deviate from his norm, which is mild mannered, if anything. I also imagined his wife, who was the same as Fred, who did not strike me as the type to leave her husband. But while running, I imagined her losing her mind and being feverish, and screaming, and running off with a younger man in a red sport's car, flashing her breasts before she left, mounting the new man in his car as they drove off.

I was headed for a giant, brightly decorated woman sculpture who was exposing her vagina, which in this case, had become an entrance way. She was pregnant, and may have been ready to give birth, but I did not imagine to find a baby inside, since the vault like stomach was probably a logical next step of such a large vagina. I met Fred in a parking lot, which was being used for the circus, but all the circus stuff had gone away, except for the woman, who may have been abandoned for her size. There was nothing else to run to, except the forest way in the distance, but I knew I couldn't make it there in time, and it seemed if I did, Fred would surely sniff me out.

So in I went into the vagina. It was darker than I expected, but since Fred was so close on me I had to keep running. I ran straight into a wall. I felt around trying to find some corner to hide behind, but it was completely smooth and circular. What little light that did enter, was quickly blocked off by the beast Fred blocking the entrance. He didn't enter all the way, but stomped his feet and growled a bit. He stomped and growled for some time, but I guess Fred was afraid of the dark. So eventually he left. I figured he would be waiting for me around the corner, so I waited until night to leave my shelter.


JMH said...

Fred reminds me of me. Do I often stomp and growl before entering a giant vagina because I'm scared of what lies within? Maybe.

John Dantzer said...

I didn't have you in mind when I wrote it, but you are a character, and since you are one of few who read this, it would only be logical to play to my audience... you purple poodle chomper. Don't pretend you don't. There's balloon in your teeth.

JMH said...

Oh, I am completely an audience whore. I like to blame them for what I say. Just satisfying the demand, you know?

Purple poo-dle sounds like a euphemism for an ass. I am an ass man, although not necessarily an ass biter, though I don't rule that out, given consent.

John Dantzer said...

It should be called a poopdle or a poople, since a p is just an upside down d. Although I didn't intend for it to be a euphemism, it totally is, and ass will do. So consider biting some ass next time you are down and out.

JMH said...

I am down and out now! Wait, no I'm not. I needn't any ethics objections. Yes I am!

John Dantzer said...

Cannibals are ass biters.

JMH said...

These last comments before communication completely dissolves, I think they might hold some such universal truth. The details are irrelevant, but does some fundamental essence run through nonsense?

John Dantzer said...

I think so. Philosophers have been looking for truth for ages, but have yet to find any. Nonsense is just as wise as anything else, since nothing can be accounted for.

JMH said...

That's nice, a balm.