Fairy Tale Friday 16
One fine
evening, a princess sat by the riverside, twirling the ends of her
silver mullet and playing enthusiastically with a pair of golden
balls. They brought her immense pleasure just and she was really
working them when one slipped free and rolled off into the water!
In her horror at being short one critical ball, the princess stared into the murky depths and cried, "My ball is deep in the muck! I would give anything to have it back!"
As she said this, the viscous sludge beneath the riverbed belched out a bubble of foul air, and a magical talking Blob floated to the surface! "Y00 princ3ss!" it gurgled. "I haf yore ball! wut will y0u gif me if I git it bhak t0 y00?"
"Revolting blob," said the Princess, "I will give you a swift kick in your rectum."
"UNACXCEPTUBAL!" declared the blob. "Dat iz nut a gut rewurd four retorn yer bal. I am trieyng to COMPLIT you as a man! Durf durf durf."
"I am a princess, not a man. You must have me confused with someone else," she said. But there was an emptiness in her heart where her ball used to be. "Very well," she said. "What the fuck would you
like?"
The blob gazed longingly up. "Love me," he moaned.
The princess could never love a disgusting blob, no matter how pathetically it danced for attention. But god damn it if she didn't feel a little off having only one ball, so she smiled as convincingly as she could, and said, "It's a deal!"
"WACKAH00E13!!" screamed the blob, and its buttocks parted heroically. The ball came shooting out, covered with peanuts and jalapeno seeds.
"Ew", said the princess.
Later that night, she sat on her tufted throne at the banquet table, the despised blob nestled comfortably in her pants, out of sight but still in mind as its constant anal sniffing made it impossible to ignore. Whenever she shifted in her seat, a sewage aroma and faint hoots of "N00b!" emanated from the seat of her royal trousers. Dukes and Lords edged nervously away.
Servants set before her a feast of pulpo nachos, doused generously with dressings and reeking of ripest vag. As she prepared to dig in, the blob became restless in her butt crack, howling out, "R3mimbar y0r pr0mize! I wontz luv!" And with a roll of her eyes, the princess reluctantly scraped her plate of nachos directly down her trousers into the blob's ever-gaping mouth. Noblemen and wealthy merchants raised their eyebrows and whispered among themselves.
The princess was deeply ashamed. She never would have thought that playing with her balls down by the river could get her into such a predicament. Flush with frustration, she stormed off to the privacy of the castle's bathroom and extracted the quivering blob from her butt.
"This has gone too far," she said. "Nobody in their right mind will ever love a blob like you. All you want to do all day is sniff the crumbs around someone's asshole and spew foolishness. You create nothing, and have nothing to offer. I can't give you what you need."
The blob was enraged, and unleashed a torrent of random words: "PEANUT BUTTA BUTTASCOTCH AN CHOCOLATE! PALESTINIAN SPOURTING GOODZ!
I WROTZ DER BOOKZ AHN PEDOPEDO! POOTIT IN MEY BUTTZ! SMAK MY BUTTOX
RED! RIVERZ OF BLUD! TORTILLA RACES! FEEDZ ME DER DIP FRYED
BUTTERZ!!!"
And this gave the princess an idea.
She scooped up the blob and carried him down into the castle's dungeon. Down many a dark stone staircase she lugged him. Into the bowels of the palace, where the waterbugs scurry and the plague-ridden rats make love in rancid puddles of filth. Where, chained to a wall, a zipper-mouthed leather hooded gimp writhed pathetically against the mildewed stone, his feet planted in a bucket of his own waste. It was the GREAT Gimple, the original fraud of the kingdom, and his ass had been freshly flushed with coffee, and stood wide open. "It may be true that nobody in their right mind can love you," said the princess to the blob, "but here we have someone in their very wrong mind. Go in peace." And she made of the blob a gimp's rectal tampon, to swelter in foulness forever.
She returned to the banquet table a successful matchmaker, and a steaming pot of pulpo and a bottle of wine shaped like a plump woman were set before her, and she consumed these with the gusto of one who knows her ass will never again be sniffed by a revolting ball hungry blob from the mucky bottom of the river. And from that day forward, she was much more careful about what she did with her balls.
The end! Happy Friday!
In her horror at being short one critical ball, the princess stared into the murky depths and cried, "My ball is deep in the muck! I would give anything to have it back!"
As she said this, the viscous sludge beneath the riverbed belched out a bubble of foul air, and a magical talking Blob floated to the surface! "Y00 princ3ss!" it gurgled. "I haf yore ball! wut will y0u gif me if I git it bhak t0 y00?"
"Revolting blob," said the Princess, "I will give you a swift kick in your rectum."
"UNACXCEPTUBAL!" declared the blob. "Dat iz nut a gut rewurd four retorn yer bal. I am trieyng to COMPLIT you as a man! Durf durf durf."
"I am a princess, not a man. You must have me confused with someone else," she said. But there was an emptiness in her heart where her ball used to be. "Very well," she said. "What the fuck would you
like?"
The blob gazed longingly up. "Love me," he moaned.
The princess could never love a disgusting blob, no matter how pathetically it danced for attention. But god damn it if she didn't feel a little off having only one ball, so she smiled as convincingly as she could, and said, "It's a deal!"
"WACKAH00E13!!" screamed the blob, and its buttocks parted heroically. The ball came shooting out, covered with peanuts and jalapeno seeds.
"Ew", said the princess.
Later that night, she sat on her tufted throne at the banquet table, the despised blob nestled comfortably in her pants, out of sight but still in mind as its constant anal sniffing made it impossible to ignore. Whenever she shifted in her seat, a sewage aroma and faint hoots of "N00b!" emanated from the seat of her royal trousers. Dukes and Lords edged nervously away.
Servants set before her a feast of pulpo nachos, doused generously with dressings and reeking of ripest vag. As she prepared to dig in, the blob became restless in her butt crack, howling out, "R3mimbar y0r pr0mize! I wontz luv!" And with a roll of her eyes, the princess reluctantly scraped her plate of nachos directly down her trousers into the blob's ever-gaping mouth. Noblemen and wealthy merchants raised their eyebrows and whispered among themselves.
The princess was deeply ashamed. She never would have thought that playing with her balls down by the river could get her into such a predicament. Flush with frustration, she stormed off to the privacy of the castle's bathroom and extracted the quivering blob from her butt.
"This has gone too far," she said. "Nobody in their right mind will ever love a blob like you. All you want to do all day is sniff the crumbs around someone's asshole and spew foolishness. You create nothing, and have nothing to offer. I can't give you what you need."
The blob was enraged, and unleashed a torrent of random words: "PEANUT BUTTA BUTTASCOTCH AN CHOCOLATE! PALESTINIAN SPOURTING GOODZ!
I WROTZ DER BOOKZ AHN PEDOPEDO! POOTIT IN MEY BUTTZ! SMAK MY BUTTOX
RED! RIVERZ OF BLUD! TORTILLA RACES! FEEDZ ME DER DIP FRYED
BUTTERZ!!!"
And this gave the princess an idea.
She scooped up the blob and carried him down into the castle's dungeon. Down many a dark stone staircase she lugged him. Into the bowels of the palace, where the waterbugs scurry and the plague-ridden rats make love in rancid puddles of filth. Where, chained to a wall, a zipper-mouthed leather hooded gimp writhed pathetically against the mildewed stone, his feet planted in a bucket of his own waste. It was the GREAT Gimple, the original fraud of the kingdom, and his ass had been freshly flushed with coffee, and stood wide open. "It may be true that nobody in their right mind can love you," said the princess to the blob, "but here we have someone in their very wrong mind. Go in peace." And she made of the blob a gimp's rectal tampon, to swelter in foulness forever.
She returned to the banquet table a successful matchmaker, and a steaming pot of pulpo and a bottle of wine shaped like a plump woman were set before her, and she consumed these with the gusto of one who knows her ass will never again be sniffed by a revolting ball hungry blob from the mucky bottom of the river. And from that day forward, she was much more careful about what she did with her balls.
The end! Happy Friday!