Meet Skully Skeleton, just one of the many freaky colorless characters that exist in Eerie Valley as he and his creepy friends mingle at the latest greatest Halloween shindig – until something disgustingly horrible began to botch things up!
* * *
The hideous sky was very dark that night amidst the perpetually eternal twilit sky, an impossibility in most places, except in the blithering dithering Nether Regions, especially since the full new moon was brightly shining at its fullest capacity everywhere and nowhere. So as you can plainly see (or the lack thereof) none of this actually made sense, but then nothing really made sense here in Eerie Valley, a freaked-out vicinity somewhere in the dithering blithering Nether Regions.
Here thrived, or died, the ghastly inhabitants of anything – or anyone – from the dismal undead to the totally dead. They were dead-beats all, so get used to it. But if something – or someone – alive came stumbling along, a human in particular, it wouldn’t stay that way for very long. Either this unfortunate one would be overcome by zombies or vampires or some other demonic creature and be hideously transmogrified into one of them – namely, something undead. Or sometimes the poor human would become very dead, or very digested – after being feasted upon by other gluttonous creeapazoids.
In this lawless land, where anything goes -- or dies trying -- you didn't see "Wanted! Dead or Alive!" posters plastered on walls or posts around town, but sometimes in the Eerie Valley Deadly Daily News you might find in a personals ad something like "Wanted! Dead!"
Let’s move on and introduce a new character here, folks. Skully Skeleton was clattering down one of those dirt roads that twists and turns through low barren hills where no grass grew and the sparse trees looked dead and gnarly -- because they actually were. The walking sound he made sounded something like a macabre marimba, which was simply part of the idiotic sound effects for this pathetic story.
Skully wore a blue backwards baseball cap, a bright red vest and white tennis shoes, without sox, and he still had his eyeballs in his sockets. You could see everything else on or in him, but there wasn't much to see. He didn't even have his birthday suit on, which was pretty scary in itself. Most folks cringed when they saw a fellow wearing nothing but skin and bones – but old Skully was just all bones. Something to really cringe at.
Incidentally, he was heading for the big Halloween-fest down at the Phineas Fang Funhouse Mansion, which is not his dilapidated place of residence where he once found some very rude intruders rummaging through his humble abode, namely Bob Zombie and Gary the Ghoul. They had been looking for something to eat, particularly fresh flesh of trespassing scampering humans, but the notoriously renowned vampire chased them away. Now that we have hurriedly recapped the previous episode, let's move on to this one.
Skully Skeleton was clatteringly walking down the road, humming some mindless tune, when he ran into Gunther the Ghastly Ghost, who looked like he was once human, except somebody haphazardly tossed a white sheet over him with goofy eye and mouth holes. What did you expect anyway? Casper?
"Yo, Gunther, ma spooky-man!" Skully called.
"Hidey-ho, ma bony-man!" Gunther returned.
They high-fived, but since Gunther was a ghost, his transparent hand went straight through Skully's bony hand.
Skully asked, "I reckon you're heading for the big Halloween-fest?"
Gunther replied, "You reckon right!"
"But I think it's gonna be a really hot shindig, Boneman."
“Oh, why, did someone turn the temperature up there?”
Gunther chuckled weekly, “Yeah, right.”
Skully was a rather naïve fellow, which may be because of his skinlessness – if that makes any sense.
Soon they saw Frankie the Monster stumbling along, that poor wretch who was a victim of some stark raving mad scientist who had haphazardly slapped together some miscellaneous body parts. A reanimated living dead creature was the hideous result, and we can blame the diabolical Dr. Vincent von Stinkenfrown for that debacle, Frankie's sick and twisted creator.
"Hi guys!" Frankie grinned goofishly.
"Hello fellow!" called Gunther.
"Yo, bro!" exclaimed Skully.
So together the trio of terrifyingly tortured tragedies moseyed on down the road, toward their dreadful destination, the grand rendezvous of all spooks and kooks, ghost and ghouls, and creepazoids and freakazoids galore.
As they came up over a hill, the outermost outskirts of the party vicinity, they spied two sinisterly sordid characters down the road. It was two of four particular twisted witch sisters, none other than Hazel the Hideous Witch of the Southeast, and Nelly the Neurotic Witch of the Northwest! Fortunately the other two sisters were not with them, Isadora the Insidious Witch of the Northeast and Wandara the Wild Witch of the Southwest. They were crashing and trashing some other party on the other side of Eerie Valley.
Unfortunately for Skully, he had a crush on Hazel, but he was always embarrassed since he didn't have any skin on. He used to go to these parties wearing a plastic skin suit, but the ridiculous thing always hung horribly on his bones, looking really disgusting, and all the creatures would laugh at him. So he stopped.
“Hi, Hazel. How’s it hanging?” Skully grinned -- with all his teeth showing.
Hazel replied with a giggle, “Well, apparently nothing’s hanging on you lately.”
Embarrassed as usual, and covering his obvious boniness with his hands, he shyly giggled, “Well, uh, I lost my skin suit in a, uh, horrible accident, uh, so I can’t wear it anymore.”
Gunther nudged him in the ribs, literally, and whispered, “Don’t be so literal, dunderhead.”
“Actually, people often call me Bonehead.”
Nelly said meanly, “And you are a real Bonehead, aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” Skully chuckled stupidly.
Gunther grabbed his boney forearm and dragged him away from the sinisterly snide witch-bitches. “Don’t let them degrade you like that. They ain’t worth it, buddy.”
“But I really like Hazel. She's real cool for a witch. Last year she kissed me at one of these shindigs.”
“Yeah, I remember. Spin the bottle, a forced kiss. Plus, she's the one that stole your lower right rib.”
Skully looked down at the empty rib socket. “So she’s the culprit! Well! I don't like her anymore then.”
“Sheesh! It's about time you saw the truth -- Bonehead.”
“That I am.”
“You’re too dialed into masochism and low self-esteem, aren't you?”
“Nope, it’s just a fact that I got a boney head.”
“Sheesh. You're too far gone. It's gonna take a lot of work to undial you.”
“Come on. Let's mingle and have fun.”
* * *
As the threesome ambled down the hill, they spied the crowds of weirdoes, freakazoids and creepazoids at this wide-open outdoor shindig that gathered around the main Fun House of Phineas Fang, the veritable host of the party. Outside on the front dead lawn, most of the hideous characters gathered around a dozen long tables covered with festive sweet Halloween goodies and tasty drinks. There was something for everyone, mostly really gross stuff, of course. The candy and pastries and whatnot were well rotted to imperfection, and the bowl of spiked punch had plenty of dead flies floating around in it – just the way they liked it.
As the ghastly threesome began to mingle with the disgusting crowd, Gunther chuckled, “Boneman, look at all these crazy party-whores! Got some pretty weird characters here.”
“Whores? Where? I gotta hide! They always make fun of me. They say I’m too boney for them.”
“Listen, bonehead. Party-whores are people that just hang out at parties all the time. They get their rocks off that way.”
“They got rocks? Yikes, the whores used to throw rocks at me. We’d better get outa here!”
“Stop sniveling, and relax.”
“Relax? If I relax too much I'll be a clattering pile of bones at your feet."
“Just keep cool and hang with me.”
“Hang with you?”
“Just zip your lips.”
“I don’t have lips to zip.”
“Just shut up!”
Next, something horribly funny happened as they mingled, or maybe something too horribly lame to be funny, take your pick.
You see, Gunther and Skully and Frankie stumbled into the notorious Bob Zombie and his trusty sidekick, Gary the Ghoul. Since we ran into them in the last episode (which we assume you’ve already bumped into) we won’t explain any gory details of these two freakazoids that chew and gnaw on corpses from the various graveyards around Eerie Valley, or even fresh raw meat if they could get their grimy hands on any such delicacies. Humans or raw flesh were less then endangered species around Eerie Valley, but practically extinct – unless they accidentally slipped through some phantom vortex from the mediocre Earth realm, which had been known to happen now and then. Anyway, where were we?
Bob grinned and hollered as they gandered at the three newcomers, “Holy Heldaciousness! It’s a wretched trio of fellow slime-infested freaks!”
Gary snickered, “How goes it, all you scum-suckers from the old bat-crap factory!”
Skully scowled, “That sounded like an insult.”
Gunther shook his head. “Nope, from these two, that’s a compliment.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Well, I never did have a mind to begin with.”
Gunther cleared his throat. “Well, you two maggot-sucking corpse-mongers. Whatcha got up your nasty sleeves today?”
Skully lifted his own arms, checking his sleeves, except he had none. Gunther reached over and pushed Skully’s boney arms down.
Gary replied, patting his tummy, “Oh, nothing much. But we just had a small feast at the town morgue.”
Frankie asked, “Really? Who’d you eat?"
Gary replied, “Hmmm. Hard to tell.”
Bob clarified, “It was Mayor Maniac Madson of Eerie Valley.”
Gary looked surprised. “It was? Huh. I couldn’t tell.”
“You were too busy eating his grimy brains out of his skull to notice.”
“But coming here, I realize I’m still hungry. I coulda mixed in some candy corn with that juicy intestinal track I chewed on -- it woulda added to the flavor. Yum. Or I shoulda had some pumpkin pie ala brains. Mm-mm, yummy.”
Gary grumbled, “Coulda-woulda-shoulda. You’re a disgusting morbid dreamer.”
“Thanks, old pal. I can always count on your immoral support.”
Skully had heard of these two totally hideous reprobates, but hearing them babble like that make him sick to his stomach – if he had one – which he didn’t.
Gunther asked, “Say, Bob. Got any of those clever jokes of yours?"
But Gary looked annoyed, “Oh no, don’t get him on that jag again. He’ll drive you nuts, enough to make you put him outa his misery, then eat him to death.”
Bob snarled, “I’m already dead, idiot.”
“One can’t be too dead, ya know.”
grinned, “I like jokes, guys, seriously. Can I hear some?”
“Let’s hear some!” Frankie beamed.
Bob grinned, “Alright, folks. Ahem. What color is Chris Cringle's underwear?”
Gary scowled, “What's with the off holiday joke?”
“They’re blood red with white trim. Duh!” Bob grinned, his jaw almost falling off.
“That's really stupid.”
Skully said, “I liked it. But who’s Chris Cringle?”
“Just some Christmas clown,” Gary mumbled.
“Huh?” Skully was still clueless.
Bob told another one. “Why can't Easter bunnies lay their own eggs?”
Gary sighed, “They're not built that way!”
“Nope. Because they gotta buy them at the market just like everybody else.”
“That's real pathetic, Bob.”
Skully said, “I thought it was kinda funny, uh, I think. But I don’t get it.”
Gary snarled, “There’s nothing to get. It’s just stupid.”
Bob went on. “Why did the Thanksgiving turkey say gobble-gobble?”
Gary growled, “Because he was a damn turkey!”
“Nope. He was hungry.”
“I get hungry too, but I don't run around saying ‘gobble-gobble.’”
“But you're not a turkey.”
“But you are!”
Skully laughed, “Now that was funny!”
Frankie commented, “They talk like that a lot. They should be a comedy team on stage.”
Gunther said, “They were. At the Late Great Boris Karlov Theatre, but they got thrown out for hideously bad jokes.”
“And pretty much like the ones their victimizing us with now,” Frankie chuckled.
Bob snapped, “Alright, scab-butt, enough with the dreary criticism. We got paid in ripe brains in those days ‘cuz the owner loved our act.”
Gary snickered, “Yeah, from certain members of the meager audience that died from lack of laughter. The ushers through them out on their heads, and after they kicked us out, we feasted on their cracked open skulls.”
“I remember it a little differently.”
Skully chuckled, “I think they’re funny, even if they’re not on stage right now.”
Gunther said, “Don’t encourage them, Boneman. They go at it for hours like this.”
Frankie remarked, “Good. I wanna hear more.”
“Alright.” So Bob continued, “Why’d the chicken cross the road to get to the other side?”
“Uh, I think you just gave away the punchline -- although it's hideously pathetic.”
“Because there was a store over there and he was hungry.”
Gary sighed heavily while his eyes rolled up inside his head. "You gotta stop making up your own jokes. They’re really really dumb. Not even worth printing on TP."
“But I didn’t make them up. I got them from How to Tell Jokes for Dummies.”
Gary “I'm not surprised.”
Skully asked, “How about a Halloween joke, guys?”
Bob said, “Alright. What do you do with hot dogs at Halloween?”
Gunther glared, “I don’t like the sound of this one.”
Gary “I give up. What?”
Bob: “Have a Halloweenie roast.”
Gunther grinned, “See! Horrible.”
Skully was chuckling, “Horribly funny, I’d say.”
* * *
Fred the Wacky Werewolf came running down a well used untrodden old dirt road that lead him right to the Halloween shindig, and he was screaming something, flailing his arms about. Folks figured he’d gone raving stark insane, since the full moon was out, as always, so zombies and vampires pounced and dog-piled on top of him to control the convulsing wolfish maniac.
Then they heard him say, “Let me talk! I got news!”
“He can talk?” Max the Mumbling Mummy mumbled through his muffled dirty bandages.
“What did ya say? You’re mumbling again.” Vlad the Vivacious Vampire said.
“Never mind….” Max mumbled.
Phineas Fang, one of the pouncing vampires, the veritable host of the party, hollered, “Everyone get off of the smelly mangy fleabag. He wishes to speak.”
So the raving stark maniacal fools reluctantly got off of Fred and the dirty grubby furry werewolf dusted himself off.
Phineas Fang said, “Now, you may speak.”
“Oh yeah. I almost forgot why I came here, what with all your guests jumping me like some free-lunch human specimen.”
Scarecrow Ralph asked, “So what’s this news you got?”
“Yeah, get on with it, Freddy-boy!” Silas Pumpkin Smasher growled.
So Fred cleared his throat and howled at the top of his lungs, “IT’S THE INSIDIOUS PSYCHO DEMON FROM THE 13TH HELL!”
Skully remarked, “Hey, Spookman, I didn’t know there was a 13th Hell.”
Gunther replied, “Yep, there really is.”
“I didn’t even know there were a bunch of hells beyond the first one,”
“Well. Now you know.”
Phineas Fang asked the very hairy Fred, “How close is it to our vicinity?"
Fred turned around and looked back up the road he came, and replied, pointing, "Well, pretty close -- here it comes now!"
Down the road toward them lumbered this really ugly, and really large demonic beast. He looked like something hideously cross between one of those really smelly uncouth ogres and a filthy dirty warthog, except it was far more uncouth and dirtier than either one. And when it growled, its long-range projectile slimy breath attacked them with disgusting green goo.
“Eeeeeyyyooooooh!” Skully exclaimed with the utmost of being severely grossed-out, trying to wipe off the repugnant reeking muck off his clean white bones. And so were the others that just got disgustingly slimed.
Gunther the Ghastly Ghost cried, "What are we going to do?"
Phineas Fang hollered, "I've come to the conclusion that there is only one thing we can do right now."
"What’s that?” Skully grinned. “Invite him to the party?"
“No, you imbecile. We RUN!"
So the group ran down the path, and all the other pathetic party-whores followed them, as Phineas Fang lead them to one of those hatches that went down a flight of stairs to a tornado shelters, which they entered quickly. Fred was the last one in, so he slammed closed the hatch behind them, and then locked it with the padlock.
"Now what?" Frankie asked.
"We just wait," Phineas Fang said.
Skully grumbled sadly, “Why didn’t we invite him to the party?”
Gunther shook his head and said, "Because he would probably eat us for snacks."
Frankie asked, "Does anyone know anything about these kinds of demons? Where do they come from? Where they're going? And like what do they eat?"
Fred felt honored to reply, although no one asked him specifically, "I hear they come from the 13th Hell, because they're called psycho demons from the 13th Hell. DUH!”
Bob Zombie snapped at him, "Shut up, you stinking flea-infested idiot. You don't know what you’re talking about."
Gary the Ghoul snickered at Bob, "Neither do you.”
But Phineas Fang said, holding an open volume of something-er-other in his hands, “According to my Unabridged Encyclopedia of Demonology for Dimwits, this is a rather terrifying creature that happens to be none other than a Megaphantasmagorian Psycho Demon from the 13th Hell.”
Fred exclaimed, "I told you so!"
Suddenly, they heard ominously heinous growling from above. They weren’t sure, but they had a pretty good hunch that this was that hideous Megaphantasmagorian Psycho Demon from the 13th Hell. Next they heard a horrendous repetitive pounding sound upon the wooden hatch. Again, they weren't exactly sure, but they had a fairly good idea, once again, that this was that insidious Megaphantasmagorian Psycho Demon from the 13th Hell.
Skully had to ask, "What if that's just one of the party-whores that was left behind, knocking to get in?"
Gunther offered sarcastically, "Well, why don't you go open the hatch and find out?"
Skully replied hesitantly, "Well, uh, just in case it’s that scary demon creature, I'd better not.”
Gunther sighed in relief, “I’m glad you’re thinking on your toes, Boneman.”
So Skully looked down at his tennis shoe covered toes.
“What’s my toes got to do with it?”
“Nothing, so just clamp it.”
“But I don’t have a clamp.”
“Just button it up.”
“I don’t have any buttons either.”
“Just shut your grinning mouth!”
“But my mouth is always in full grin mode.”
“Just stop babbling! Sheesh!”
And so the bewildered Boneman didn’t say another word –at least for now.
In the meantime, Phineas Fang continued reading the pages in his demonic encyclopedia, and then reported to everyone, "Apparently, it eats everything in sight. So obviously this is not a good sign."
Frankie shook his head. “Nope, that don't sound good at all.”
Gunther finally asked, "But does your fancy book tell us how to get rid of it?"
The knowledgeable vampire replied, "According to my quite informative volume, there is absolutely nothing that is known that might quite possibly get rid of it."
There was a lot of grumbling and bitching and moaning over that.
“BUT!” Phineas Fang began to announce, “There is a way to slow it down.”
"Good! What is it?" Frankie asked, clapping together his big hands in excitement.
“WHAT?!” everyone asked in unison, surprised, of course.
The vampire replied, "Any food made with sugar in it will suffice. That will thwart its evil ways, temporarily anyway.”
Gunther announced, “Hey, there's tons of sweet stuff back at the party place. We've got to trick that demon to go back there. Any volunteers?"
Frankie chuckled, “Yeah – you!”
“Yes, indeed,” Phineas Fang agreed, then he explained, “And according to the Law of He Who Speaks of the Matter of Volunteering Somebody must He Himself Volunteer.”
Gunther griped, “What?! That’s a crock of smelly dung!”
“I can look it up for you in my Complete Encyclopedia of Maxims, Axioms, Platitudes, and other Words of Wisdom.”
“Never mind,” Gunther moaned. “Besides, I'm a ghost, what damage could a measly demon do to me.”
Phineas Fang warned, “Don't forget, this is a hideous and insidious Megaphantasmagorian Psycho Demon from the 13th Hell.”
“Oh yeah, how could I forget."
* * *
So Gunther the Ghastly Ghost courageously -- although really scared out of his freaking wits -- mounted the rickety stone stairs, unlocked the padlock, and jumped out of the hatch, closing it behind him.
The horrible ogrish warthog demon growled at him and spewed horrible nasty putrid scum all over him. Most of it went through him, considering he was a mere specter through which most stuff went. At any rate, Gunther ran up the path back toward the big mansion, where displayed on the front lawn were the dozen or so long tables filled with yummy scrumptious sugary Halloween treats, like tasty cookies with orange and black frosting, bowls of assorted really sweet candies, spiked orange punch with dead flies in it, pumpkin pies and pumpkin cakes, and other scarily delicious goodies to quench everyone’s sweet teeth, and all rotted and scummy to utmost imperfection. Anything fresh was out, naturally.
Standing in the midst of the grand buffet of scrumptious treats, Gunther turned, and with wide open arms, announced to the approaching Megaphantasmagorian Psycho Demon from the 13th Hell, “Hey, Mr. Smelly Demonic Big Guy! I hear you like sugary sweet yummy things! Well, here’s a ton of it right here for you to chow down on!”
The repugnantly ugly demon stopped, looked around, and growled, sliming Gunther big time. He wiped off what didn’t go through him, and said, “Yeah, you’re welcome.”
The monster reached down and grabbed handfuls of yummy sweets and began pile-driving them into his huge gaping mouth, while Gunther snuck back to the hatch and called down to them, “The coast is clear.”
Frankie said, “Didja say, ‘the ghost is clear?’ Ha ha ha!”
Gunther grumbled, “Yeah, really funny.”
Everyone climbed out of the tornado shelter, slowly walking back toward the party area, and beheld the grossly gluttonous sugar fiend gorging out on all of their well-deserved sweet party goodies, that should have been theirs to feast on, not this undeserving overgrown, reeking, slobbering demon ogre-hog of a big galoot.
Then something really weird happened. As the hideous creature demonically dumped boat loads of scrumptious goodies into its disgusting gaping gullet, it strangely began to shrink, and transmogrify into something else, into a little green and grimy goblin, yet with a mouth too big for its pint sized body. It looked around, wide eyed and bewildered.
‘W-what happened? W-where am I? Who are all you weird freaky critters? And are you going to eat me?”
Frankie approached and laughed, "Actually, we thought you were going to eat all of us."
The grimy green goblin frowned, “Oh, am I that scary?”
Skully came over and replied, "Yes, you were. You were some kind of horrid, smelly, slimy, disgusting demon.”
“I resent that!" the little goblin snarled.
Fred asked, "You don't remember anything?”
“Nope. Nothing. Nadda. Zilch.”
The others gathered around and observed the tiny little green creature, and they all thought he was so cute and cuddly and adorable looking.
Skully grinned, “Welcome to our party! Join in with the rest of these party-whores.”
But Phineas Fang approached with his big volume and said, “I just read further and learned that this particular creature here identified as a goblinius gluttonus is merely the alternate species form that our not so friendly demon monster sometimes changes into, and after feasting on sugar-filled food. Whereas it may be harmless and docile now, later on it will revert back into its true hideous shape and nature.”
The frowning grimy goblin snapped, “I resent that too!"
"But we all saw it, "Skully told him. "You were this hideous ugly monster, and then you suddenly turned into this cute adorable little green goblin. Something about eating sugary stuff."
“Yuck! What are you talking about? I hate sugar!"
Skully told him, "But you were eating tons of it just a minute ago."
The goblin scowled nastily now, “You’re all totally crazy!
Skully added, “Actually, you were the one going totally crazy--”
Gunther nudged him and tried to whisper, “You’re getting him all riled up --- put a sock in it."
“Sorry, Spookman, but I don't have a sock."
“Just zip it!”
“I don’t have a zipper either.”
“Just shut up!"
As all of the crazy critters stood around the little green fellow, it started looking really ugly for a small demon creature, so he began spouting violently, "Why all you slime-sucking, spit-slinging, mold-brained, gunk-mongers!"
They were all just a little bit shocked and appalled that such potentially vile words were being spewed out of the mouth of such a cute and cuddly little character.
Skully said, “Uh, we’re sorry you feel that way.”
“Sorry? You’re gonna be real sorry, all you stuck up snobbish, demon-hating, rot-brained, gut-seething, putrid farty whores!"
Skully still tried to sooth the little bugger, “Calm down. We all thought eating sugar would make you sweet all over.”
“”You’re dead wrong, all of you, you snot-puking, puss-picking, earwax-chewing, belly button lint eating, scab-jabbing, fart-belching, crap-sucking dead-beats!”
Bob Zombie chuckled from behind the crowd, “Holy Helldaciousness! That little runt’s got a better vocabulary spewing from his little lungs than I ever did! I can learn from the scrawny fowl-mouthed twit!”
Gary the Ghoul remarked, “How do you know he didn’t get it from you in the first place?”
“You’re right. I’ll take all the credit.”
To that the little green dude hollered, “You pathetic pilfering, pirating, purloining, plagiarizing piss-sippers!”
“Was that aimed at me?” Bob figured.
“Yeah,” Gary chuckled, “So don’t try to nab his material.”
“Actually, he’s not very original, so screw him where the freaking sun’ll never shine.”
“I heard that, you rot-brained, decomposing jump-started slimy carcass of a maggot-gut-filled lice-licking loser!”
Bob grinned, “I think he likes me.”
Gary mumbled, “I think that was an insult.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
Most of the creepy party whores grumbled and bitched under their stinking breaths about this little twisted reprobate with the big mouth and the phony filthy words that he slung forth with such vile violence.
The little gross-mouthed twit continued to spew, “You’re all fatheaded revolting idiots, ‘cuz I hear all your nosey up-turned, crack-craniumed condescending grumblings about me! All you smother-fricking, corpse-sucking, maggot-gorging, puss-licking, vomit-terds!”
That kind of really rude pseudo-profanity carried on for quite a while, and since the whole party was ruined anyway, with tasty treats sickeningly slimed and half-gobbled on, the disgustingly disgruntled crowd began to break up, and not too slowly either.
Skully and Gunther and Frankie decided to amble on down the path they came from, leaving the little party-pooper to his mean-spirited violently vile self.
Skully said, “I gotta say, Spookman, I think I liked his former monster self version better. At least it had a healthy sweet tooth."
Gunther replied, “Yeah, Boneman, that may be true, but eventually everyone would have ended up being swallowed whole and floating around inside the big galoot’s slimy stomach."
Skully had to ask, "Yikes! Why would that be?"
"Because he would eat us all, that's why.”
"Oh. But that wouldn’t have been very nice of him."
“Don’t forget, he’s a repulsive Megaphantasmagorian Psycho Demon from the 13th Hell.”
Skully nodded, “Yeah, I guess that explains it.”
Then Frankie said, "Listen, guys. I think he stopped cussing. The fowl-mouthed little critter is eerily quiet now."
They turned around and looked, seeing everyone run away in all directions, literally heading for the hills, for the little grimy goblin was turning back into that huge, ugly demon monster again, growling horribly like before. Yes, it was the return of the hideous Megaphantasmagorian Psycho Demon from the 13th Hell!!!
Skully and Gunther and Frankie ran as fast as they could down the path.
As they ran, Skully remarked, “I think I like the little green gobliny version better. He probably said a few naughty words, but he wasn't going to eat us."
Frankie agreed, “That’s true.”
Then Skully decided, “But as the small gobliny guy, he sure was awfully cute and cuddly looking."
“Make up your freaking mind!" Gunther snarled.
Leaving the totally crazy demon monster behind, who began eating the rest of the already slimed and violated party goodies, and since everyone scattered every which way, the three kept running, and running, and running . . . .
Until the story came to a very abrupt end.
* * *
This awfully stinky tale was putridly published and copywronged in the eerie year of the Lice-Licking Leprous Lecher, right here in Eerie Valley
* * *
Published by Bamblebrush Press
WARNING: This wretched story is irritatingly rated "PG"
for Putrid and Ghastly!
Beware of phony profanity! It may shock those who are faint of fart!