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The Plimpkin's Pie

Dedication: Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday dear Slosh Happy Birthday to You!

The smooth winds, though they were slightly rough, had an air to them of future danger. But they did not bother Jennifer. For Jennifer was in a cave, in her backyard (Jennifer's backyard is very wierd) and there, blocking the entrance to the cave, was a slimy plimpkin.

Now you may never have heard of a plimpkin before, so let me introduce you to him. He is a huge dome-like creature, with a strange liquid emitting from his pores. His mouth is as large as a basketball, but his teeth, all five hundred and thirty seven of them, are sharpened as if to cut a human skull. The large oral cavity is deep within his underside, covered by blood veins, which, by the way, are covering the outer side of the dome too. The general appearance of a plimpkin looks like an eyeball that has been poked out and lied on the cornea.

This plimpkin had cornered Jennifer in the cave, hoping for a snack before he would crawl away for his sleep. He wouldn't eat all of her: heavens no. But he would take the good parts: the thighs, the breasts, and all other good, tender pieces of meat. The rest of her he would take with him and give to a poor, starving plimpkin on the street.

But perhaps his dreams were not to be: For suddenly he felt a cool, clammy sword slice through his back. Johnny Sist, who lived down the street from Jennifer, was trying to save her life. He had long since fallen in love with her, and now, as if to be a hero, he was going to save her. But it was no use. Johnny, unknowingly, had stabbed the plimpkin only halfway through the back; the only important plimpkin organ there was the fizingle, which was used solely in case of fire. A scream was heard, and Johnny was quickly chewed between the plimpkin's teeth; blood gushing from under the white dome during each swallow. Jennifer struggled, but she could not help but watch Johnny's demise, and she knew that soon she would be degraded to such a pile of flesh, only to be devoured swallow by swallow, gulp by gulp, and then digested merely to sustain this huge, blood-stained bubble.

But the plimpkin was not hungry now. He looked longingly at Jennifer, as a young child would a candy cane, observing curves, bends, and waves of that beautiful piece of flesh. But after all, a skinny plimpkin is a happy plimpkin. So he decided merely to carry Jennifer around until tomorrow, perhaps until breakfast. A large gateway in the plimpkin opened, and slime oozed out, grabbing Jennifer by the feet. With a loud, high-pitched scream, she was dragged into the dome, whereby the gateway shut again.

Jennifer looked around in her new habitat, amazed to find out that she was alive. She then felt the sensation of movement, and the idea that she was being taken away from her safe yard came upon her.

Now I know that I have many different types of readers. Some are squeamish, while a few are still wondering when I'm going to get to the bloody part.

Therefore, read Ending:

A. If you are squeamish, have fallen in love with Jennifer, or dislike Communism "just because it's red."

B. If you aren't squeamish, but you had to interrupt this story for a trip to the "facilities."

C. If you are drooling allover this paper, or if you enjoy studying the eating habits of a plimpkin.

A.    The plimpkin slowly moved along the ground, and Jennifer was jostled within. When the plimpkin came to a clearing, he opened his gateway and said "Hello, Jennifer. I've been such a bad boy. We plimpkins are normally vegetarians, you know, and I've just been playing around. Good Bye and Good Luck. "

B.    Suddenly they began to move at a very speedy pace. Jennifer, who was very susceptible to carsickness, threw-up allover the inside of the Plimpkin. The burning acid scortched holes everywhere, and soon the poor plimpkin was reduced to a smoldering pile of burnt flesh. Jennifer, who was now set free, walked home and immediately took a bath. Yes, this erased all physical reminders, but the mental recollection of the plimpkin was burnt into her memory forever. (The recollection of Jennifer, by the way, was also burnt permanantly into the plimpkin itself)

C. Suddenly they arrived at the cave that the plimpkin called home. The gateway once more opened, and Jennifer scurried out. But it was no use. She realized that there was no way out of the cave, and that the plimpkin lay before her, drooling on the cave floor. "Oh, what the heck!" She lay herself down right in front of the plimpkin and slid herself up close to those mighty jaws. The plimpkin, surprised at this action, was nonetheless delighted. He extended his tounge out and caught a piece of her thigh. Slowly he pulled her inward, and quietly he stripped her of her clothes with his mighty teeth. And then, taking one last look at the beautiful, naked girl lying beneath him, he reached out his teeth and bit into her soft breasts. Jennifer let out a tiny, muffled squeel, but it was allover. The plimpkin took bites here and there, delighting in the fresh blood that popped out with every delicious bite.

But readers, do not cry over her demise: No, let her death be a warning for all: Never go into that cave sitting in your backyard without a T. G. Taft Brand (R) Plimpkinkiller: "We make Plimpkins our business" (available at drug stores everywhere).


 © 1984, 

T. G. Taft

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