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03-28-03, to Omnivore
Ping the birthday boy
Once again, A large and rather menacing creature enters La Taverna, squeezing his hirsute shoulders through the door frame. He (unclothed, he is still rather grotesquely male) squints feroceously around as his eyes adjust. This time, patrons don't back away, though they happily give him as much room as they think he might like.
He ponderously makes his way to the corner where the (former) Birthday Satyr sits alone. Unlike the first visit, patrons along his path of advance decline to make a trips to the WC, or grab another drink at the bar. They want to see who the happy victim is.
In the corner, he faces the Birthday Satyr, so the assemblage is deprived of the sight of a maw full of sharpened dental work. Once again that surprisingly lyrical soprano tickles the air, though the words can't be quite understood, even at the next table.
~
The Birthday Satyr says, “You gotta be shi... kiddin me!” The Birthday Ogre just shakes his head. “Well... okay, if it comes from the shop steward, I'll do it. As long as it's for that guy, and at their request. Can't turn down one of their requests. They own too many ropes and sharp things.
“Just one question: Why does it hafta be with him?” The Birthday Satyr nods toward the door, where a short, ugly man with a gleefully disdainful expression has entered La Taverna. B.S and B.O. stand and proceed towards the stage, where the new entrant is headed as well.
~
He was short and wide. That was the first thing most patrons noticed. Shorter than anyone else in attendance. He barely came up to the bridge of the next shortest person's nose, and that put him well below everyone else's bridges.
Approaching the stage where the Birthday Satyr and Birthday Ogre waited, he detoured slightly to slap a certain Turtle upside the head in passing. No obvious reason - he just felt like it.
He joined the others on the stage. “Right then. First, we're not singing that song. It's COPYRIGHTED! You flaming retards should know better. Same old story: codes of federal regulations ignored. Well, it ain't gonna happen while I'm on stage. And if the Birthday Nymph shows up, she can't join in. Her place is in the home, barefoot and cooking.
“And another thing! Make sure this post is coded for review by all the reviewers, and gets a Standard Header. That's the only way it'll get read. Maybe we should put ”Babysitter“ or ”Cheerleader“ in the subject line. And get some Lesbians to sixty-nine each other on either side.
“And another thmmmfff” The Birthday Troll's rant was chopped off by hands from both the Ogre and the Satyr. Stuffed down his throat. The troll attempted to resist violently, but the Birthday Ogre snapped his potato peeler like a twig. Birthday Ogre looked at Birthday Satyr over BT's head. They both nodded and faced a particular table. Together, they drowned out BT, shouting in tenor and soprano:
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OMNIVORE!”
--
Birthday Troll [Copyright 2003. All rights resurfed] (Mdom, parody, humor, SHS)
There is no god but SCAS and Talon is HIS prophet.
And, oh yeah: Yer all perverts.
