21 Words: The Verbwhore Halloween Story 2010

[Ginyard]

quicklyistically.

"WHY? STOP" I enquired

"WHY STOP INDEED. MUFFINS FOR SUNDAY AT THE JAFFA AND SPEEDO?"

I confirmed the appointment then pulled down my gypsy skirt and stared at my testicles. Of course....Hypnosis! I yanked my pelotas to the left and set them gently swinging. As all around stared wistfully at my Kerbanger metronome, I lowered my voice and politely commanded that they

[Jemble Fred]

stop itching. No really, the itching was unbearable. I was burning up more vociferously than that time I happened to spend

my gentleman's jism within a Farthing whore called Knockers Nelly and ended up with a raging fire which necessitated Dr Winston

having to put that metal poker down the hole in my poor dishevelled manhood. That time I told you about.

"What

are you up to now, Professor?" leered Nagsworth, cracking his ringmaster's whip and meaning business.

I spoke not a word. The

testes stopped swinging. All three of them. Three? Yes, three there were, and three, no four. They began to grow, pulsating

and dividing with a sickly slapping sound, as my brain divorced itself from reason and I stumbled towards the by now

terrified freakmaster. Mr Nagsworth gasped, and gaped. I gargled and moaned. And advanced.

"NO!" He bellowed, "Back I say! This cannot

[Ginyard]

be happening". He bit into them like Her Royal Highness gnashing an indian's shin, but it was too late.  My stones pressed him hard against a wall, forcing his arse into his neck until his head exploded. Decorated with Nagsworth's entrails and my ever-expanding bollocks, my body trembled and I vomitted copiously. Blood and bone fragments caked my clothes and a fair portion of the mud, snuff, excrement and maggots from his body entered my mouth. I began to choke as the filthy mass wriggled down my esophagusand windpipe towards my stomach and lungs. I couldn't breath! I couldn't stop its descent! As I clutched my throat and my eyes turned red, the theatre crowd slowly stood up and began to sing a most terrible concluding chorus:

Professor Portumenture, what a sorry, sorry sight

"gggHhhhelp...please!!"

Professor Portumenture in his 10 denier tights

"ooAAAggghhrr....god!"

Professor Portumenture, you'll make the perfect pickled pet

"doh-dodee-doh-doh"

Professor Portumenture, we haven't worked out this line yet

[Jemble Fred]

To be entirely explicatory, it's a wonder, considering the peculiar nature of this transformation, and the entire questionable escapade, that I

woke up this morning in the Paddington left luggage office with nothing more than this bruise on my cheek.

=========================

The Professor

finished speaking, and eyed us with his eyes. Sadly, we had been entirely distracted throughout by the entrance of a small

[Ginyard]

chap called David Carradine Rolf who had stood in front of Portumenture and demonstrated how to sexually molest university furniture

[Jemble Fred]

in a most amusing manner. We didn't ask Professor Portumenture to repeat his tale.

"...Of horror and death!"

Shut it Professor.

THE END.

_{Righto, time to get started. Does anyone want to narrate the bits at the start and the end?}