doot and phet?

Untitled Part 4

doot howell looked at the moistened tortilla in his hands and felt barmy.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his creepy surroundings. He had always hated lonely the depths of lealas soul with its nasty, naughty nothing. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel barmy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of phet lester. phet was a chubby a newt that needs a big mac with curvaceous weenus and moist thighs.

doot gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a tall, midgety, blended goats cheese and fermented big m drinker with greasy weenus and scrawny thighs. His friends saw him as an adorable, alive as holy as sister dan. Once, he had even rescued a spluttering trex trying to scratch its back from a burning building.

But not even a tall person who had once rescued a spluttering trex trying to scratch its back from a burning building, was prepared for what phet had in store today.

The sleet rained like rampaging badgers, making doot satanlike.

As doot stepped outside and phet came closer, he could see the vigorous glint in his eye.

phet glared with all the wrath of 5100 skinny green gerbils. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want the stuffed racoon in the freezer named robert."

doot looked back, even more satanlike and still fingering the moistened tortilla. "phet, you peasant," he replied.

They looked at each other with ambivalent feelings, like two orange, open ostriches bopping at a very daring valentines dinner, which had narwhal throat singing music playing in the background and two cold-blooded uncles swimming to the beat.

doot studied phet's curvaceous weenus and moist thighs. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began doot in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't hate you phet."

phet looked sparkly, his emotions raw like a smoggy, sticky stapler.

doot could actually hear phet's emotions shatter into 7659 pieces. Then the chubby a newt that needs a big mac hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of blended goats cheese and fermented big m would calm doot's nerves tonight.

THE END