Tuesday, December 7, 2010
I'm cousins with Doop Mouth. He's such a grumm-duckus. He came to my daughter's birthday and just sat there Dropping Brown Pound into one of her gift bags. When my daughter came up to say "hi" to him he just snarled like a forest wolf and told her to "back off." It was a really upsetting situation. I'm writing in this journal to vent my Red-Faced Mega-Rage.
My cousin Doop Mouth was born of bad blood. His parents were toilet addicts. The used to dip him in hot Grouch-Pam and turn him upside down late at night. Then, when he was a toddler, when their family was visiting the city's municipal hazardous waste center, Doop Mouth crawled off the edge of the railing into the brown river. Eight years later, he was found on an the embankment of Mork River, slurping mud and snarling at passers by. By the time State Services took him in, it was far too late. He was a bonified barf-sleeze, coughing and wheezing out browned columns everywhere. Even during sacred events like church, you can hear him in the back pew launching out a dark missile onto the polished marble floor.
He was once taken aside by Bishop St. Poppins for a private conversation. The Bishop tired to plead with Doop Mouth to find solace in the bosom of the White Robed-One but he said "No" and a fountain of nasty sauce came spilling out of his mouth, all over the sacred robes.
Posted by Adamantium at 10:29 AM