From THE ADVENTURES OF DUCKBILL JONES AND HIS MIGHTY MOOSE

1 The First Chapter

One day Duckbill Jones was hanging around the house, carving an elephant’s trunk in his chimney.

“Hey!”, said a purple bypasser, eating a squirrel, “T’is no day for laughter!”

Duckbill Jones had difficulty not looking at his watch which, in fact, was made out of bananapeels.
“I have not asked for your blatant remarks and chairs!”, he replied, feisting on a treeleaf.

“Okay!”, said a rooster.

“What?!”, the purple man demanded, dying.

“Is it you, purple man, dying on my property?”, asked Duckbill Jones

“No.”

“Alright, but I must ask you to remove your refrigerator from my lawn”, Duckbill Jones said, eating a hat.

An anonymous pigeon, not wanting to be named, dropped a large sofa and flew away.

“That is unheard of, silly bird”, Duckbill Jones said, “for what do I receive this here goose in my wall?”

“Rooh Rooh”

“My god! It speaks!”, Duckbill Jones surprisingly cried out, twisting his wrist around his toes.

Ever so smart, Duckbill Jones introduced a large inflatable magic vacuumcleaner to the purple person passing by and asked him to be silent for once.

“Noodles shallt not be eaten from thine floor!”, the Dark Knight demanded with thundering knees and forks, “For I must forbid you to be eagleheaded!”

Four minutes later, a giant midget appeared on the battlefield. It said nothing at first, but later on it did.

“Hippo!”, it commented, “My liver should not have been seperated from my clay nose!”

“This is silly”, Duckbill Jones said, requesting a song at the local radio station.

Right at that moment, a chair crossed his path.

“Excuse me”, the chair said, “would you be so kind as to not ridicule my being?”

“I fart in your general direction!”, Duckbill Jones fired back, quoting a movie.

“Quibble”, commented three stooges, hanging from a tree.

“What is the sense of all this foolishness?!”, Duckbill Jones demanded, licking his bum.

Twentythree minutes passed before the plane arrived, squeeking its tires around the fireplace and donkeystable. Only then it was when Duckbill Jones saw the magnitude of the banana General, General Flick.

2 General Flick’s Wrath

“It is I, the raging evil of multiple banana incorporations, who will laugh at your silly attempts to overthrow the mighty Queen’s shower stove!”, General Flick thundered, getting dressed for dinner.

“What?”, Duckbill Jones asked in disbelieve.

“MUHAHAHAHAHA!”, General Flick taunted.

The angry mob stood there, asking eachother for blue hair and spit. Nothing is what they did and this is what upset Duckbill Jones with great apples.

“I weep for your petty attempt at cutting this cucumber!”, Duckbill Jones yelled, reeling in a spoon from the ocean.

Two minutes passed.

Another minute passed.

But there it was! Salvation!

It was in these days, that salvation did not come in the form of a glowing, white man called Jesus. No.

“MMUUURRRWWWWAAAARRR!”, the Mighty Moose added to the conversation, rolling down a hill.

A man died.

“It’s a brown cow!”, a scared man from the angry mob cried out, questioning his religious believes.

“NO! T’is a moose!”, a woman from the same angry mob replied, searching for a contact lense not belonging to her or anyone from her family.

In fact, there was not even one contact lense present at that time!

Three leafs fell from a flying car, killing a fountain.

“Oh no!”, the pigeon said, cartwheeling down a busy street. “I can not allow such insolence on a large grassy field!”

“It’s that silly bird again!”, Duckbill Jones said, stampeding.

“NO!”

“Who was that?”, Duckbill Jones demanded, flying a 20 foot kite, wearing a yellow skirt.

“It was the moose!”, a man replied, being run over by a shrimp.

“Don’t be daft, crazy woman!”, Duckbill Jones said with anger, looking down a bottomless well.

“But it was!”, the pigeon said, being shot at by an invading army.

“We must flee this land and harvest three bananas to feed General Flick and his silly French troutmasters!”, Duckbill Jones said.

“Er.. yeah, but where do we find the portable skyscraper?”, the Mighty Moose asked, carrying an empty vault.

“It is just a matter of knowing where to put the icing, my trusty accomplice”, Duckbill Jones replied, robbing a bank.

Five days and 48 hours later, Duckbill Jones and his Mighty Moose stepped inside a church the size of seven penholders.

“T’is mighty tight in here”, Duckbill Jones said to his Mighty Moose, watching a movie

“T’is”, the Mighty Moose replied, eating a qaftysproodle.

“We must continue our quest!”, Duckbill Jones said, “for my grandfather has never been called Wesley Trinidad of the Administration Desk!”

A train crawled from under a rock.

“What are you doing here?”, Duckbill Jones asked, frowning an orange.

“I cannot speak, I am here on business occassion, trees are not to be eaten alive and grey”, the train said on a mysterious tone, trying to bend a round cheese.

“T’is a Mysterious Puzzle!”, Duckbill Jones blattered out, passing a tiny dingo factory.

“T’is!”, the Mighty Moose answered, reading a garden.

3 Billy the Train

“What is that?”, Duckbill Jones said in awe, pointing at a large puddle of mud.

“Er.. it’s a puddle of mud, sir”, the Mighty Moose replied, frowning like a frog’s rear-end.

“I can see it’s a puddle of tiny apples, Moose, but what IS it?”, Duckbill Jones said, building a teacup out of nothing but tree leaves.

Then Duckbill Jones’ clever assistant Greg arrived at the golfcourse, doing well over 100 miles per hour whilst eating three bananarabbits from a giant monkeytree.

“It is amazing how Greg comes up with these things”, Duckbill Jones said, leaning on his little finger. “I mean, how can five badgers make soup out of just one appendix?!”

“Yes.. it amazes me too, Duckbill Jones”, the Mighty Moose said, feeding his pet-rhino a chimney.

A bird splat to a window and died.

“Well, it has been a while since we got that mysterious puzzle from the talking train, have we found anything yet? Maybe some burning noodles or a wrapped-up rituel?”, Duckbill Jones asked, laughing his ass off.

“Don’t ask me”, the Mighty Moose said, “I’m just a moose and a brown one, I might add.”, he added, painting his eyebrows green.

“You’re right”, Duckbill Jones replied. “I can remember my trusty assistant Greg choking on a yellow feather once and I couldn’t stop laughing!”, he added, “It’s a good thing he didnt die! HAHA!”

Another bird died, flying into a reversing radio.

“Ah well, we might as well look for a giant turkey then, right?”, Duckbill Jones said, smashing his face into a bystanders kneecap.

Ten minutes later, the talking train showed up.

“HI! MY NAME IS BILLY THE TRAIN!”, Billy the Train said, in capitals.

“Sod off, silly machine, we don’t need you and neither do I snoar in my sleep. Besides, you can’t talk anyway”, Duckbill Jones said, afraid of what might become of the poor children in Third World countries.

Flibble.

“OKAY!”, Billy the Train replied, again in capitals, but this time with added ginger and carrots.

“Can someone pass the cheese?”, someone at the table asked, shooting earlobes at unconcious pedestrians.

“Who said that?”, Duckbill Jones asked, playing with a three inch red pencil.

“No one at all”, no one at all said, not being there in the first place.

“It is strange, Mighty Moose, how we keep ending up in these strange conversations.”, Duckbill Jones commented, waving at a stray dog.

“Yes, it is”, the Mighty Moose replied, his toes in a circle.

4 The Stolen Fridges

It had been a while since Duckbill Jones and his Mighty Moose spent some time in the local carrot factory, but now they did feel it was time. Duckbill Jones could not resist eating a watery piece of a cruiseship, so he went off.

“Hey, where is my refrigerator?”, Duckbill Jones asked no one in particular, his hair in flames.

“I wasn’t talking to you, thief. I feel robbed and I think I might faint on this here floor”, Duckbill Jones said, smelling of bum. So Duckbill Jones started mowing his lawn, practically running over and killing everyone passing by. Completely overthrown by the refrigerator incident, Duckbill Jones decided not to build a shiny bicycle anyway. It had been a tough decision the first time, but this time it was purple.

“LOOK!”, a floating car buldered, “Look what you did!”, it said, trimming his cat’s tail.

A guitar flew through an empty building, crashing into a sidewalk.

“Who did this?!”, Duckbill Jones demanded, looking at a pair of perfume bottles just lying there.

“I did!”, This answered, fully aware of his awkward name.

“Who are you, This?”, Duckbill Jones asked in A Minor.

“No one’s watching”, This said to his cat, ridiculing the local nerd.

“Silly man, your cat cannot speak”, the cat said, reversing a nuclear postman.

“What?”

“Right, there’s no sense in this at all, as always..”, Duckbill Jones sighed, sighing through his ears.

Now there were a great many things Duckbill Jones could decide to do. The first option would be to ask This’ cat to stop talking like a funny looking rabbit in a zoo, but only after kicking This in the chin, without asking first. Considering this option, Duckbill Jones thought of a second one. It would be a good possibility he could overthrow the Queen of Spoonland thus ensuring his way to the fastfood church in Chicago and maybe even South-Africa. This way, This could never find his canaries made of cheese.

While pondering, a duck ate a pie.

A third option would be the rescue of..

“NO!”, Duckbill Jones interrupted, barfing in spinach farms. “You can’t take my fridge!”

A cheese crashed through the window.

5 The Feathered Feeder

“Hey”, Duckbill Jones whispered, rubbing his oven, “did you see that?”

“SEE WHAT?”, Billy The Train replied, shouting as ever.

“Why are you here, Billy The Train?”, Duckbill Jones asked through his red trumpet, “I cannot remember asking you for a spoon”.

“T’IS FOR MY FEATHERED FEEDER!”, Billy The Train yelled, reeking of the colour purpish.

“Feathered Feeder?”, the Mighty Moose repeated, reading a post-it.

“Why NOT?”, the green pigeon cried out, stroking a car’s hood.

A watery pole arose from the bending ceilingfloor.

“What does that have to do with anything?”, Duckbill Jones wondered, baking nine wonderous flamingolegs.

Without hessitation, the Mighty Moose struck down on the Feathered Feeder, not even knowing where to look or fiddle.

Like SLAP!, it went.

No one really knew what was going on, but Duckbill Jones tried to clarify the situation.

“Be it not my ancestors’ tie to the great llama-family of the Raging Dildo, I must clarify this here situation!”, Duckbill Jones clarified, not clarifiying anything at all, like.

Cousin Daila spit on the floor, killing a blue eel.

“But what does all of this have to do with the Feathered Feeder?”, the Mighty Moose asked the present fellowship of random lions, “And while we’re at it, what is the Feathered Feeder?”

A house walked by, reading a toilet.

“Interesting question, man.”, a man said, wondering what he meant.

“I’m not a man”, Duckbill Jones said, checking his lively status.

“I was talking to the brown moose”, the man said, this time wondering where the hell he was.

“Im no man either”, The Mighty Moose claimed, wearing yellow sneakers.

“Sorry”

The man ran off.

“So what’s this about the Feeder?”, Duckbill Jones tried, again.

“I DON’T KNOW!”, Billy The Train replied, forking a knive.

A dingo crossed the street.

6 The Blue Encounter

Duckbill Jones was hanging around the house one day when he noticed the fact he was lounging on a major airport’s runway.

“It is strange”, Duckbill Jones noted, “I do not even own a garden”, he added.

Not really knowing where to go, Duckbill Jones walked over to the newspaperstand, some steps away.

“Hello”, the newspaperstandman said, waving to a passing tabloid.

“Hi”, Duckbill Jones replied, careless for anything green, “can you help me, newspaperstandman?”

“I’m a sailor!”, a sailor commented, trying to reach his toes from around his neck.

“I can see that, sailor, but where are your beans?”, Duckbill Jones said, wearing a beanfarm.

“It seems to me you have them, sir”, the newspaperstandman said, polishing an aquarium.

A boat passed, honking at the stray sailor.

Like HOONK HOONK, it went.

“Can I buy some bins before I go?”, the sailor asked, whistling a tune through his left ear, sounds like something from The Sound Of Music.

“Sure thing, dildo”, a dildo replied, carrying three muscular sparrowwings.

Duckbill Jones frowned, said “What?”

There came The Mighty Moose, “Duckbill Jones! I found a clue to Billy’s mysterious riddle! I think it has something to do with carrots and beans!”

“Beans..”, Duckbill Jones repeated, thinking of green leaf tea, “It was not minutes ago I spoke to a sailor about his beans, we must try and find a windmill, BEFORE ITS TOO LATE!”, Duckbill Jones expressed, his nose bleeding.

Just when the Mighty Moose wanted say something else, from out of nowhere a horse fell on the floor.

“Grmpf”, the horse said.

“Hi”, the Mighty Moose said, watching a broccoli running from the local authorities.

Duckbill Jones walked over to the broccoli felon and started picking grass from an apple.

“Hey, stop that”, the apple said.

“What are you doing here, horse?”, Duckbill Jones said, tapping his feet.

“No”, the horse replied.

“No? I didn’t even ask for your answer”, Duckbill Jones commented, suddenly wearing a brown hat.

Just at that moment, the newspaperstandman walked over to Duckbill Jones, grabbed the hat and ran away, like a salted lemon on a breezy fridaynight.

“Oh, take it, silly man, I never asked for world hunger anyway”, Duckbill Jones said, rapping.

“So to get back to the bean-issue”, the Mighty Moose said, “I think it’s time to prevent more broccoli’s from passing this here blue line, made of fondue.”

“You’re right” Judge Dredd replied, “But keep in mind you cannot feed the donkeys”

“You have no proof of that!”, Duckbill Jones said in fear, fearing what he just said.

“Yes I do”, Judge Dredd said, nudging his ears.

“PROVE IT!”, the Mighty Moose screamed out, almost sounding like our dear Billy The Train.

“Make me!”, Judge Dredd replied, fiddling on a roof.

Duckbill Jones stamped on the wooden floor.

“Ouch”, the floor said.

The newspaperstandman walked over to the floor and introduced himself.

“I believe I have never had the pleasure measuring your dimensions”, he said, “But I think it is time for a bookstand.”

“It is strange”, Duckbill Jones commented, “how you seem to be talking to this here wooden floor.”

“Just a hobby, sir”, the suddenly three feet taller newspaperstandman replied, sueing a tree for trespassing.

A bird crashed through a window, kilometers away.

“Damn”, said the window, “look what you’ve done”

“No, my religion tells me not to open my eyes in heavy situations”, the dead bird said, feeling nauceous.

Moments passed before suddenly the Mighty Moose saw something in the distance.

“It looks like a Blue Encounter!”, he yelled out.

“Now explain this, newspaperstandman!”, Duckbill Jones demanded, running in the wrong direction.

“It’s just a plane, man”, the newspaperstandman replied, tripping over a metal pipe.

“Sprffft”, said the pipe.

“Shut up”, the broccoli said.

The blue KLM plane started the landing, gently feeling around for any people on the runway.

“Please clear this here runway”, the plane said, hovering over the newspaperstand.

“Okay, but first tell me where I can find the magic beans!”, Duckbill Jones tried, carving a woodpecker out of a plastic bag.

“Look for it in the Everlasting Fields Of Singing Hippos”, the plane replied, slowly rotating his rear-end.

“Ah, so that’s why this dead hippo tried to fool me with a fifteen-inch fork”, Duckbill Jones said.

“Yes”, the plane answered.

“Noodles”, the newspaperstandman said. He farted and walked away.

“Thats our queue, Duckbill Jones”, the Mighty Moose said, “Let’s get out of here before the polish cavalry arrives”, he added, quoting some movie.

“Okay, on to the Everlasting Fields Of Singing Hippos, then!”

7 Everlasting Fields Of Singing Hippos

Never had Duckbill Jones seen this many rabbits in one kangaroo.

“Amazing how carrots can invent foreign countries this way, eh?”, the Mighty Moose said, raving the waves.

“Yeah, I still don’t know where to find my squirrel’s left foot, so why do you ask?”, Duckbill Jones replied in anguish.

A chair knocked on the door.

Bonk bonk, it went.

“Who is it!”, a well-dressed hippo demanded, getting a haircut.

“The chair, you called me 23 minutes ago!”, the chair said from behind the closed World War II aircraft.

An unknown man whistled a tune, sounding more like a horny turtle than like the flamingo he intended.

“Well, come on in then.”, Duckbill Jones said, chewing ice.

No way did they know what was about to happen.

A car passed by.

“My GOD!”, the Mighty Moose blurted out, feeling like a donkey on five whales.

“This cannot be! I thought we were searching for a land of hippos, but here you tell me my beard is growing slower than my sandwich spread!”

“Shocking, isn’t it”, someone said, running away.

“Come on Mighty Moose, this is getting awkward”, Duckbill Jones said to a limp cupboard.

“I’m right here”

“Oh, right…”

“Let’s go then, there’s much to discuss”, Duckbill Jones said, awaiting his fait patiently.

Another pigeon laughed out loud

LOL, it went.

“?”, the well-dressed hippo replied, not knowing if he actually said anything aloud.

“There’s a hippo here?”, Duckbill Jones wondered, indeed out loud.

“Seems to be”, the Mighty Moose said.

“Señor Hippo, could you point us the way to the Everlasting Fields of Singing Hippos?”, Duckbill Jones asked, making a turd from an emergency sprinkler.

“You’re in it, its just five miles that way”, said the well-dressed hippo, pointing towards a funny looking floor.

“Thats only a floor, are you mocking me?”, Duckbill Jones asked, aware of potential danger.

“Yes”

“Hmm”

“Yeah”

Fourteen minutes passed.

“Hmm”

“Yeah”

“So what happens now?”, the Mighty Moose asked, drinking milk from a rubber fork.

“We’re going through this here floor, obviously”, Duckbill Jones replied, sighing

Sigh

LOL

“STFU!”, the pigeon demanded, flying into a concrete dolphin.

“What’satmean?!”, someone asked, running towards a crowd of swimming rabbits.

“It’s slang for cheesecake”, the Wizard of Oz explained, looking worried.

“Thank you, that’s all we needed to hear, sigh”, Duckbill Jones sighed, sighing.

Someone died.

8 Cheesecake

Days had passed since their last human encounter. Luckily, a flower raised it’s hand.

“Hello”, it said, folding it’s ears.

“Don’t listen to it, Mighty Moose, it will only make you fear the sidewalk.”, Duckbill Jones said bravely, fearing the sidewalk.

“Thanks for the advice D”, the Mighty Moose answered, trying to sound cool.

Macaroni started falling from the sky.

“How many times have I told you not to call me D?”

“Never?”

“Yeah, then act like it!”

The flower frowned, licking it’s roots.

“Mind your own business, damnit!”, Duckbill Jones said with a female tone.

An hour passed.

“So…”

“Yes?”

“What are we doing here?”, the Mighty Moose asked, melting his toenails into a nice skyscraper.

“WE’RE LOOKING FOR THE CHEESECAKE, REMEMBER?”, Duckbill Jones unknowingly yelled, looking at a center for anonymous alcoholics.

“Sorry, caps”, he added, feeling sorry for the miniature eggrolls in the window.

“We’re not that pathetic, you know.”, the eggrolls said together, sounding like a girl upside down.

A chimney fell through the floor.

“It’s time to move on, Mighty Moose”, Duckbill Jones said wisely, adding two to four.

“That’s six in plural”, the Mighty Moose answered, eating cheesecake.

“What’s that you’re eating there, Mighty Moose?”, someone asked, not minding his own business.

“Cheesecake, obviously”

“Right”

“I guess we found it then”, Duckbill Jones said to a revolting crowd.

Only for a moment had it seemed like a happy ending to a great adventure, but there was the answer:

OO-HOO, it went.

“Was that an owl?!”, Duckbill Jones frightfully wondered aloud.

“I think it was sir”, a woman said, swimming toward the sky of bananas.

“THAT CAN ONLY MEAN ONE THING!”, Duckbill Jones exclaimed, doing his morning exercise.

“It’s not even morning, damnit”, he said.

A bus rammed into an everlasting field of singing hippos.

Duckbill Jones frowned, pointing at the enormous dildo hanging from a tree.

“I bet you can’t fit that pear in your ear”, Duckbill Jones said to the Mighty Moose.

“Hah! Challenge taken”

And off they went again to take the cheesecake back to it’s rightful owner in Cuba, Mexico. One with a huge beak, as if it were nothing, the other with a dildo stuck in his ear, feeling comfortable as a keyboard’s dinnerplate.

Then, the unimaginable happened.

A mobile phone rang.

“OH NO!”, Duckbill Jones girlishly screamed.

9 A naked man

“As if you dare!”, the Mighty Moose dared the mobile phone.

“No”, the phone replied, feeling around for anything orange.

“Then why do you tred here?”, a novelist asked, running away.

“I said no already, so why would I take a piece of scrambled plastic?”, a bird said, making a point.

“He’s got a point”, the phone said, talking to a tree.

“Yes, I will consider it, but never will I fear the envelopes of my father’s Administration Desk”

When the car finally skid around the corner, it was already too late. A tall man from Kenya felt like peeing, so pee he did. No one could actually believe the existence of plants to be true, but there was no other way around it: someone had to act right away!

“THAT’s it!”, Duckbill Jones said, suddenly touching a dog’s nose.

The dog ran off.

A pony came along instead.

“That’s better”, the trainee said, asking for his next payment.

“I paid you last month already, gritter”, the salesman replied, wearing a yellow jumpsuit.

“A gritter? Is that all you can think of?”, a passing policeman asked, “It’s not like you can overthrow the queen of Spoonland without laughing at my crippled mother”

“Who are these people?”, the Mighty Moose wondered, making a run for it.

“Where are you going?”, Duckbill Jones yelled after him, singing some national anthem.

Twenty-five indian warriors came to the site, looking for a place to keep their rhinos.

“Well you can’t keep them here”, a rhino said, “I’m alergic to poultry”

“Oh, sorry”, a wall said, not knowing he could actually speak.

“I wasn’t talking to you”, Duckbill Jones said.

“You weren’t talking at all”, the pope said, wearing a black Yankees cap.

“I know that, but it’s just that I have trouble staying calm over this here interesting feeble”, Duckbill Jones replied, waving at a jar.

“Okay, anyway, we should really go on and find those bananas”, the Mighty Moose said, “General Flick must be getting impatient”.

“You’re right, my trusty christmas tree, it is not every day that one finds such a walnut”, Duckbill Jones said, killing a jacket.

“Thanks”, the Mighty Moose said to the jacket.

“You’re welcome”, a hippo said.

“So, we haven’t seen Billy The Train for quite some time now, have we, apple”, Duckbill Jones asked, forgetting the question mark.

“I saw him running away from a computer retailer, just ten minutes ago”, Duckbill Jones replied to himself, cutting a star-shaped piece out of his socks.

A sparrow passed by, screaming like a spickled rectangle.

Just then, a rollercoaster got mixed up with an escalator and a plane crashed.

“That’s terrible”, a bypasser explained.

“That’s not really a good explanation of a gruesome situation, silly woman”, another said.

“I’m a man”

“Right, prove it”

“Make me”

“I can’t, I’m in prison”

“So there, villain”

“Enough!”, Duckbill Jones intervened, rappeling around a soft looking glass fountain.

“We haven’t proceeded one bit today, Duckbill Jones”, the Mighty Moose said to Greg, Duckbill Jones’ trusty assistent, suddenly appearing out of thin crap.

“I will take you to a field of bananas, you passed it a couple of days ago and didn’t act like it”, he replied.

“Yeah, we were just playing pretend, as if we were doing it for real, but we weren’t”, Duckbill Jones answered, “We were pretending”.

“So it seems”, Greg said, dancing around a local grocery store.

“What are you doing, naked man?”, Duckbill Jones asked a stranded naked man.

“I stranded here, I need help”, the man said in pain.

“That’s okay, I’ll be fine, thanks”, Duckbill Jones replied.

“Alright, show us the way Greg, we trust pink marihuana ever so much”, he added, flying through the church’s ten thousand dollar windows.

A day passed before a car passed by.

“Wow, that took a while!”, the Mighty Moose concluded.

10 The Vending Machine

“Hence the terrible way I reacted”, interfered the raging postman, unaware of his inability to speak.

Duckbill Jones could not understand the reasons for these actions, but was well aware of the dangers he was now facing.

“I cannot understand the reasons for these actions, but I feel I am well aware of the dangers I am facing right now!”, Duckbill Jones said to his Mighty Moose, balancing on one twig or another.

“Yes, so it was mentioned just before you said it”, the Mighty Moose replied in utter shame and blue tangerines.

“Who cares…”, a macaroni vending machine said, “I feel a little left out of this adventurous story, while I am actually the one touching you in the groin!”, he cried.

“It’s true”, Duckbill Jones said, “You should come with us on our quest for the Mysterious Puzzle”, he continued while appearing gay in front of the whole community.

“Yes.com”, the Mighty Moose added for no reason whatsoever while holding a twig.

Three days later, the man in ripped clothing and feathered M&M’s finally ate his ninety-nine cakes and died just moments after.

“That went fast”, Duckbill Jones commented, “I thought we were never going to get rid of that pesky badger”.

Only a second or two later, a second passed.

Duckbill Jones and his Mighty Moose ran over to the macaroni vending machine and started pounding on it like it was ten ‘o clock in the AM!

“UNBELIEVABLE!”, a tiny woman with a kid or five screamed like a three-year-old wearing nothing but midget hair, “WHY MUST YOU ALWAYS BREAK THE VENDING MACHINE JUST BEFORE I WANT TO USE MY STAPLER?!”

“I’m very sorry”, a fleeing submarine replied.

Two guitars were thrown out of the window, landing on squid.

“There you!”, the bartender went, “Don’t say it was the POPE who questioned my squirrel!”.

Although, no man should keep his bear traps to himself .

“Anyway..”, Duckbill Jones said, “.. why does everything keep interrupting our sinful operations?”

“I don’t know Duckbill Jones, maybe we are meant to be fiddled with matches and cheap wine”, the Mighty Moose replied.

“Yes”, Duckbill Jones said, lowering his voice, “.. yes, maybe we are”

A man walked by and fell.

THE END

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