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Stockpile and Drainy Get Tuckered on the Poodle
"Look at my FUR!" Stockpile exclaimed in horror.
"It is all STICKY and DRY!"
"Never mind," Drainy replied as he applied oil to his partner's stuffy coat. "This will provide some necessary posture."
With that, the two rolled around on the grassy hill...letting the vast sunshine heat their thick blood and warm the tops of their fuzzy heads. Before they knew where they were, they weren't anywhere anymore and everything had gone black.
"Where did everything go now?" asked Stockpile.
"Oh, just out," Drainy answered. "Everything goes out every once in a while."
As they grabbed onto one another to prepare for the worst, they suddenly found themselves propped up on top of the most beautifully prepared Club Sandwich they had ever seen. The bread was more than fifteen feet in length, cradling tender loaves of roast beef, cheddar cheese, juicy turkey, crunchy lettuce, and hearty tomato. Before they knew what they were doing, they found themselves munching into the damn thing with determined delight.
"We will never EVER be able to eat this VERY LARGE THING!" exclaimed Drainy.
"Ah, but that is the very BEAUTY of it," Stockpile quipped. "The best things in life are those that you cannot completely eat."
But try they did...and before the yearning dove had touched the raunchy dawn of the evening sky, the two critters had consumed at least one entire side of the big ol' sandwich.
"Look!" chirped Stockpile. "Yonder comes a brown-eyed POODLE to take us to HEAVEN!"
As the poodle got nearer and nearer, the two pals became dizzy with standardized excitement. They swerved and buzzed in circles as their brains dissolved into a haze of hamster pudding.
"Come and lounge in my buzzcut," said the poodle in a low, grainy voice. "The angels have made preparations for your entry into circular minnows."
"What the HELL is he talking about?" asked Drainy with a confused spurt.
"Don't ask questions!" Stockpile yelped as he climbed aboard the mystical doggie. "Just hop on top and SHUT UP!"
As the two began riding off into the oblivions of middle earth, they frothed their magic ping-pong and glowed with shadows of rabbit-sized purple. The motion of the dog made the couple poot and dribble with habitual delight.
"Your endurance is a test," the poodle whispered as it jogged over the horizon. "A test for the purest of niblets."
The poodle jogged at a modest pace as it grinned a wide smile right into the sky.
"Them TUCKERS is all PUCKED!" Drainy screamed as he laughed himself into a pork stew bonnet.
"And them tuckers is all FLOWERED with STRAW!" Stockpile replied.
As the poodle maneuvered into high gear, the blurry image of the travelers powdered into nothing...creaming and chewing away like ten thousand tiny little tin-foiled choppers. The sun revolved fifteen times or more...and then STOPPED.