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The Fable of Something
The Fable of the Hoktaw Chockie Wagdoll
The Fable of The Liar
The Fable of Spring McCuntry
The Fable of Sourball
The Fable of the Animal Lover
The Fable of the Closet Homo
The Fable of the Girl Who Went Green
The Fable of the Lady Who Loved Haiti
The Fable of the Pregant Girl
|The Fable of the Retarded Boy

The Fable of No Fable

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The Fable of No Fable

Once upon a time there was no fable.


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The Fable of Something

Once upon a time there was something but nobody knowed what it were. Everybody thought they knew what the something was or was gonna be but none of them really knowed nothing. So they all kept on doing what they was doing for a real long time thinking that something would change or something but nothing ever did and that's just the way things was.

So it came to be that one day the something did something and that caused something else to happen. And that's when things got ugly. Nobody wanted nothing too change and so they got real upset about it all. Every mother and daughter and father and son all got their panties puzzled out because they didn't understand and was all confused kinda like.

Then the King got up on his special pancake and yelled at everyone.

"Ya'll all has to accept things," scowled the King. "I decree that ya'll all has to accept things!"

But the crowd didn't like it and they all got angry at the King. They threw rocks and him and tore him to pieces and ate him up. Soon all that was left was a bloody splatter in the middle of the center.

But then something odd happened. The thing that had happened and changed everything went right back to the way it was. And that made everyone real happy. Real, real, real happy.

So they all sat right down on a big grassy hill and had themselves the friendliest goddamn picnic you ever saw. There was grand sandwiches, big sweet cupcakes, and a great bit ol' jug of juice that could make even the big girls cry.

And therein lies the moral of the fable.

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The Fable of The Hoktaw Chockie Wagdoll

Once time was up was a Wagdoll. But not any wag of type for what is to being Chockie Wagdoll. But not everyone knowing what all is for evidence is total for Hoktaw. Completeness for being is Hoktaw Chockie Wagdoll.

Hoktaw Chockie Wagdoll is to be going morning places. But not all morning places being the same for limits of permanent. Back sores and pain rides amount in the lab wagon, the wagon for insist of too many liner capsules. And the absolute tore upness is what grates the packer for niblets of toto and radiance.

That's how were it for the totals. Some of the totals was totalled and none of them was all totalled up so there wasn't nothing to be nothing for. The dust settle in the east but never in very far north. That being, there was a tiny sublet linking up the adorable. That was the day that shabby took her notion for plenty.

Plenty for you, plenty of her, and plenty of he. Diamond walls made piss of the dew for brands that mark will barbara the infect.

"Tearing the nibble is what you garter for," Hoktaw was fond of saying. "And the nibble ain't not what it ain't."

Little large thin things vibrated away, much farther away than they had done been vibrating before. Never again would this be the never again that it was before it was never again. And that's not saying that there wasn't no nothing to be something for in the third place.

Hoktaw never paid no mind to nothing no way. And that's where the noodle crisis made way for the forever excerpt. Two times two is two and two plus two doesn't have no total. At least that's what the bossy witch had told us all the time.

Hoktaw rose up from the ashes and stood plain in the cloud. Her cloud was all shiny. Not shiny like the white man shiny but shiny like the things that make stuff up high seem real important and neat for a reason.

"Does bleed the blood of saddle pump," Hoktaw blowed out. "Kitty kitty done got blured out in the ninner."

And they all frowed away. Frowed away like there was nuffin to start wiff. The startin' was startin' to end when all of a sudden something big blowed everything all the way up and big lights flashed and something REAL IMPORTANT happened.

The real important thing shocked everyone.

For there in the middle of the polutant was a pony. A tiny pointless pony with a wag on its neck. And the wag's name was Bunkerhole.

Bunkerhole bunked a tidy nest. Bunkerhole bunked a tidy and perntliss nest.

Well, not completely perntliss. For therein lies the merle of diss feeble.

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The Fable of The Liar

Once upon a time there was a liar who fell in love with the smartest and most incredible man the world had ever known. In order to make the man love him The Liar told him all kinds of fibs about her occupation, her possessions, her lifestyle, her age, and her weight.

Much to her surprise, the man fell in love with The Liar.

But after several months the man became aware of all the untruths she had told.

The man confronted The Liar and said,

"I would have loved you simply for being the woman that you are. But because you lied I no longer give a damn about you. Now get lost."

Instead of learning from her mistake, the Liar continued to lie to everyone else including herself for the rest of her sad and disappointing life. Every time a positive opportunity arose she managed to destroy it with her neverending pointless lies.

And therein lies the moral of the fable.

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The Fable of Spring McCuntry

Once upon a time there was a beautiful and very talented young singer/songwriter in Nashville, Tennessee named Spring McCuntry. Though she was only nineteen years old, Spring was already selling her songs to millions of listeners and all of her concerts were sell outs. Spring's fresh urgent music had that super polished country/pop sound that appealed to a wide range of listeners. Yes, Spring McCuntry had everything and her life was nothing but a non-stop string of incredible events. Her fans loved her for what she was...a simple country girl with simple values and ideas.

One evening in September Spring attended a high profile party where there were hundreds of Hollywood celebrities. She met one of her favorite actors there who told her about his efforts to bring about change in the combat world hunger...and to provide medicine to people in underdeveloped third world countries.

The next morning Spring decided that she would emulate her actor friend and use her fame and fortune to enact change and make the world a better place.

Spring's next single was entitled "Feed The Children"...and it focused on the starving children in Africa. The video for the song showed hundreds of children struggling in horrible living conditions. To everyone's shock and surprise, the single didn't do very well. It still made the charts...but it wasn't a very big hit and Spring's manager was not happy at all.

The next week Spring was playing a huge concert in New York City. Even though her latest single almost flopped the show sold out in minutes. For the first few songs Spring seemed to be back in the saddle...singing the songs her fans knew and loved...and she had everyone in the palm of her hand. But suddenly right in the middle of the show she decided that it was a good time to add her own personal politics into the mix. Spring stopped singing and began telling the crowd about all the hungry suffering children in Africa and what could be done to improve the situation. All of a sudden a big fat bearded redneck in overalls threw his fist in the air and yelled.

"Shut up about the starving goddamn retards and SING!" the man screamed at the top of his lungs as his oversized balls flopped out of the fly in his overalls.

As soon as the words left his lips the entire audience joined the man in defiance...chanting the words "Shut up! Sing! Shut up! Sing!" over and over and over and OVER.

Spring looked at the crowd that had suddenly turned against her. She was confused and bewildered so she started to cry. Tears were running down her cheeks like lamb chowder in a monkey bingo fussy. But instead of feeling pity for her, the crowd just got angrier.

"Stop crying! SING! Stop crying! SING!" they chanted louder and louder and LOUDER.

Spring couldn't take it anymore. She ran off the stage and made her way toward the limousine that was waiting for her behind the venue. But before she could get to the safety of the luxury vehicle the crowd spotted her and cornered her in the back of the parking lot. They grabbed sledgehammers and large metal pipes and began hitting her...lightly at first...but then harder and HARDER. Eventually the mass of people became one solid weapon all simultaneously hammering down hard upon the poor frail country pop celebrity.

"Screw you Spring! Screw you Spring!" they chanted as they landed their final blows.

Before long Spring was nothing but a messy pile of battered muscle and flesh laying motionless in a sad warm puddle of infected blood. Before leaving, everyone in the crowd urinated on her through their trustworthy penises and vaginas. Then they all giggled happily and scampered away down the alley. And that was the end of Spring McCuntry.

Spring died a horrible death. She died a horrible and painful death. She died a horrible and painful and totally pointless death.

Well, not completely pointless...

For therein lies the moral of the fable.


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The Fable of Sourball

Once upon a time there was a very fat cat named Sourball. Actually Sourball was more than just fat. She was a freakish morbidly obese cat who was completely addicted to sex and having kittens.

Sourball was normally very content with her life. Her favorite hobby was to get very very high and roam the streets looking for a stray cat to mount her. She was used to having several litters of kittens every year and she rather enjoyed the process. Her pregnancies usually meant that she received a lot more attention and got a whole lot more food. And each and every time--within about two months--she would give birth to a wonderfully bright and frisky litter of fresh kittens.

This went on for several years. Sourball never thought that much about how she was living her life because she was just concerned with having big instant fun on a day-to-day basis.

But then something curious happened. Sourball got usual...but this time something wasn't right. Instead of giving birth to her kittens she began to lay on the floor in constant pain...constantly wishing and praying that the kittens would be born. But they weren't born. In fact, it was now about 12 months later and she was still pregnant.

Concerned and confused, Sourball went to her veterinarian to see what the problem might be.

"To be honest..." said the vet in a deadpan manner. " would be impossible to diagnose the exact cause of the problem without a very involved surgery. But my educated guess is that there are large hard lumps of resistant feces resting in your large intestine that are blocking the tubes through which the kittens would normally pass."

"So what am I to do?" asked Sourball.

"You might stop eating for a few days and see if the problem corrects itself," the vet suggested.

Once home, Sourball decided she would not eat anything until her kittens were born. Not a single damn thing. But two hours later she felt sharp hunger pains in her stomach...and she couldn't resist the urge to go on an all-out eating binge. She ate chicken and tuna and salmon and cheese and pizza and salad and frosted cake and eggs and liver and sausage and noodles and...well, she ate just about anything and everything in sight.

As she lay on her side aching from excessive overeating Sourball suddenly felt sharp pains in her abdomen.

"At LAST!" she cried with joy. "At last my kittens will finally be BORN!"

But as she looked down to see her first child she was horrified to find that it was only a lone bowel movement laying sloppily underneath her tail. She stared at it and became startled to find that it was slowly crawling toward her stomach in an apparent attempt to nurse.

Sourball got up and ran. She ran and ran until she could run no more. And then she fell on her side again, unable to continue because of her grossly oversized torso.

As she lay in the grass in a state of confusion, a small mole crawled out of a hole and stood defiant right in front of her large drippy snout.

"I have been sent to give you a MESSAGE!" the mole declared loudly.

"What message?" Sourball asked. "What message is this?"

"The message will never ever give birth to this particular litter of kittens. You will keep thinking and hoping that the kittens will eventually be born but they will not. YOU WILL BE PREGNANT FOREVER AND EVER FOR THE REST OF YOUR GODDAMN LIFE."

Sourball nodded her head knowingly...because she knew that this was only the beginning. She began to purr...softly at first, but increasingly louder as she accepted her fate.

And therein lies the moral of this fable.


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The Fable of the Pregnant Girl

Once upon a time there was a short ugly stupid girl in high school named Bambi. Lots of girls have at least something going for them...but not Bambi. She was just a worthless old stupid nothing doomed to fail at everything she tried to accomplish.

One evening as she was walking home from school a big overweight black boy named Franklin pushed Bambi into a ditch and raped her. He didn't rape her because she was beautiful or appealing. He just raped her because he was stupid.

Several months later Bambi found herself hiding her pregnancy by wrapping tight bandages around her waist and wearing very loose clothing. She didn't dare tell anyone she was pregnant but her preoccupation with her condition was negatively affecting her grades. One Friday morning in May she received her report card and realized that she was failing in every single subject.

Bambi ran to the girls' restroom with the report card in hand, crying her eyes out in a fit of confusion. Then--to her shock and horror--her water suddenly broke as she realized she was about to give birth.

Afraid someone would catch her and realize what was going on, Bambi quickly locked herself in a stall and birthed her bloody fuckchild. She held it in her hands and studied it closely. The baby looked just like her, only it was black and it cried a lot louder. Bambi didn't know what to do so she put her hands around the baby's neck and squeezed as tightly as she could. She kept squeezing harder and harder and harder. The baby tried to grasp for air but not for long. Within a minute it was dead. Bambi tossed it into the toilet and flushed it away.

As the subtle flushing sound began to subside Bambi found herself suddenly surrounded by a huge flash of white light. She felt an uncommonly mystical feeling of warmth and solitude as she closed her eyes and became momentarily lost in a dream. soon as it came...the white light disappeared.

As she made her way out of the stall Bambi looked in the mirror. She could barely believe her eyes. Whereas she was once short and ugly, she was now quite tall and extraordinarily beautiful and sexy.

"My goodness! How extraordinarily tall, beautiful, and sexy I am now!" Bambi gushed with excitement.

She looked down at her report card...and found that all the "Fs" had now magically changed to "As".

"And how incredibly SMART I am as well!" Bambi exclaimed.

She skipped and hopped out of the restroom and down the hallway and began to giggle as she noticed that a group of boys who once hated her were now following her with their tongues hanging out like horny zombies.

From that point on Bambi was the instant darling of all her classmates. She was even chosen as the valedictorian at her graduation.

And therein lies the moral of the fable.

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The Fable of the Retarded Boy

Once upon a time in a town not far away lived a small boy named Baxter who was retarded. Actually Baxter was not just retarded, he was very retarded. Well, to be quite blunt he was more than just retarded...he was extremely horribly terribly retarded.

Everywhere Baxter went people stared and laughed at him because of his severe retardation. And he would always react the same way, flailing his arms excitedly and loudly proclaiming in his peculiar queerish voice, "I AM n-n-n-NOT RETARDED!"

Baxter's parents loved him very much even though he was a retard. Over the years they had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to help him feel like he was a real child, even though he most certainly was not. But even though they were up against insurmountable odds, his parents continued offering guidance, support, and encouragement.

Sadly, at the age of ten, instead of getting better Baxter was getting worse. His involuntary muscle contractions made it difficult for him to function in public. People were constantly having to pick up items he knocked off shelves and his parents repeatedly had to pay for dishes that he broke at expensive restaurants. And the taunts continued, of course. Everywhere Baxter went children would point at him, snicker, and laugh. And, of course, he would always start flailing and shout the same silly refrain, "I am n-n-n-NOT retarded!"

One Sunday Baxter had a particularly bad day. He had destroyed several of his parents' most cherished possessions and his birthday dinner at an exclusive restaurant had ended in chaos and confusion...his family was finally asked to leave before they had even been served.

As Baxter lay in his bed jerking and twitching, he looked up and saw a strange blurry image beginning to form above him. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Slowly but surely the image became clear. It was the image of Jesus floating over his bed. Jesus looked down at Baxter and smiled knowingly.

"Baxter," said Jesus. "There is something that I want to tell you..."

"Yes Jesus?!" Baxter replied as his tongue got temporarily caught in the left side of his lips. "What IS it, j-j-j-Jesus?!!!"

"You are retarded, Baxter," Jesus said as he calmly began stroking the boy's forehead.

"N-n-n-NO, JESUS!" Baxter said as he jerked away. "I am n-n-n-NOT retarded!"

"Yes, you are, " Jesus replied calmly.

"NO! NO! NO!!!" Baxter screamed. "I am n-n-n-NOT retarded!!!"

"Here, let me prove it to you," Jesus said as he held a special magical mirror in front of Baxter's face so that he could see himself more clearly than he had ever seen anything in his life. " do you believe me?"

"Why...y-y-y-YES, Jesus!" Baxter said with retarded glee.

"Then you must also believe me when I tell you that being retarded is a GOOD thing," Jesus explained. "It is a very good thing."

"B-b-b-being a RETARD is a g-g-g-GOOD thing!" Baxter shouted as he frantically began clapping his hands.

"Of course it is, Baxter," Jesus whispered. "And just remember that you have always been a retard and you will always be a retard."

"Th-th-th-THANK you, Jesus!" Baxter cried out as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Thank you, thank you, th-th-th-THANK YOU!"

"You are BLESSED, my child," Jesus said as he lay his hands upon Baxter's chest. And as his hands touched the child's torso the boy's heart suddenly stopped beating...and Baxter died instantly. In a few quick moments his soul transformed into a mystic vapor that slowly began to rise toward the sky. But when Jesus looked at the vapor and shook his head it immediately changed direction and went down, down, down...straight into the fires of Hell. Baxter was violently thrown into the bitter furnace for eternity, forced to endure endless pain and suffering along with hundreds of thousands of other crummy retarded children that Jesus had punished in the past.

Baxter died a quick death. He died a quick and lonely death. He died a quick and lonely and pointless death.

Well, not completely pointless...

For therein lies the moral of the fable.

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The Fable of the Girl Who Went Green

Lisa loved nature and the environment. In fact, the only thing Lisa cared about more than nature and the environment was telling other people how much she cared for nature and the environment. She was one focused urban girl, that's for certain. It all started when she won a special prize in high school for a project she did on solving the earth's energy crisis. From that point forward Lisa was driven toward one goal and one goal only...preserving the earth and conserving energy.

Lisa pushed her messages everywhere she went. She was constantly handing out brochures on recycling. Everywhere she went she put posters up about global warming. Her own home...a beautiful upscale home in Boston...was a shining example for everyone in Massachusetts on how to go green.

The home had solar panels on the roof and windmills in the backyard...recycling bins were always tucked away neatly to the side...and parked inside her carport was a very pricey and exclusive all electric car. Yes, indeed...Lisa's pride and joy was her home...her own beautiful home that set a new standard on how to conserve energy and show her love for the planet.

So it was no surprise that eventually a large corporation (with much to gain by selling green products) approached Lisa about doing a documentary about her life and her passion. She was so excited she could hardly stand it. Now she was going to have a chance to share her ideas with the entire world. There was little time to waste, so Lisa immediately began cleaning everything up so that it would look absolutely perfect.

During her preparations Lisa came up with a truly grand idea. Although she had always liked the fact that her house was a light creamy beige color...she felt that this would be the perfect time to paint the house green. That way she could make her point visually as well as verbally. She rushed off to the nearest eco-friendly store to buy some paint.

"I need thirty gallons of your very best environmentally friendly paint!" Lisa said to the salesman at the store.

"Are you kidding, lady?" the salesman laughed. "There ain't no fucking paint that's environmentally friendly!"

Lisa huffed in disgust and left the store shaking her head...opting instead to go to another store that was 30 miles out of her way. At the second store there was a hefty happy salesman who was only too happy to tell her the lies she craved to hear.

"Oh yes, certainly ma'am," the salesman nodded as he put the paint onto a dolly and smirked to himself. "This paint is guaranteed to be 100% eco-friendly!"

"Thank you..." she responded. "...and the earth thanks you too!"

Driving home, Lisa imagined how her wonderful home would look painted green.

"This will really get my point across!" she said to herself. "Soon the whole world will know that I REALLY DO CARE."

Lisa got all of her ladders and materials set up and opened up the first five gallon bucket. But just as she bent over to pick up a brush she suddenly fell headfirst right into the thick globby paint. In her confusion and excitement she accidentally inhaled deeply...which sent about a half gallon of paint straight into her lungs.

She pulled her head out of the paint and began trying to maneuver her way inside the house to call for help. But when she opened her eyes they were so full of paint that she could see nothing. So she ran. She ran as fast as she could to get help. But unfortunately she ran right into the street where she was immediately hit by the recycling truck...the very same truck that picked up her own discarded materials from the street each and every week. The driver of the truck never noticed her and just kept on driving. Eventually her mutilated blood and paint covered body was merged in with a huge pile of aluminum cans on the curb. The truck scooped Lisa and the cans up and dumped them into the back of the truck where everything was instantly crushed to pieces.

When the production crew arrived at Lisa's house the next week they rang and rang the doorbell but no one ever answered.

"Oh well," said the producer as he left. "We'll just have to find another gullible schmuck to star in the goddamn documentary."

No one ever found Lisa's body. Even though she died green many might say it was a pointless death. A totally and completely pointless death.

Well, not completely pointless...

For therein lies the moral of the fable.

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The Fable of the Animal Lover

Once upon a time in a lovely part of Southern California there lived an avid animal lover named Chlorine. Ever since she was a child she had pets...every sort of pet imaginable from cats to dogs to rats to pigs to horses. While the other children at school went to each others' homes to play, Chlorine would spend her evenings and weekends caring for her animals.

It didn't really surprise anyone that as an adult Chlorine devoted her life to animal care. She ran an animal orphanage in which just about any lost or uncared for animal was welcome. But Chlorine was most passionate about a project that involved traveling far into the desert each week to care for a specific breed of coyote that was on the endangered species list.

Every Sunday Chlorine would travel deep into the heart of the desert to bring food for the coyotes and videotape their behavior for a book she was writing. Oh how she loved watching the coyotes interact with one another. Chlorine had amassed a huge amount of coyote least five hundred hours and counting.

On one particularly beautiful sunny morning Chlorine set out for the desert with her large bag of food in hand.

"This is going to be an extra special trip," she thought to herself. "Because I have some extra special treats for my animal friends!"

She whistled as she made her way to the coyote feeding ground. But just as she was rounding the corner her left leg slipped into a crevice which caused a large boulder to slide down on it...immediately trapping her as a most unfortunate captive.

"Oh well," Chlorine thought. "All I have to do is phone someone and they'll come for help."

But as she reached down to grab her phone she realized that she had strapped it to her ankle that morning...and her ankle was now firmly trapped deep beneath the heavy boulder.

"I have plenty of water in my canteen," Chlorine told herself. "Eventually someone will come looking for me so I'll just wait it out."

So she waited patiently. Just as the sun began to set she turned around and found that the coyotes were standing nearby watching her. She still had her feeding bag so she reached in and retrieved some morsels for her pals. The coyotes were unsure about approaching her at first...but the lure of the enticing food eventually prompted them to come close enough to actually eat out of her hands.

Chlorine quickly grabbed her camcorder and set it on record in order to capture the animals. She had never heard of wild coyotes eating from a person's hand before so this was going to be some very exciting footage indeed.

After half an hour or so the coyotes had eaten all the food so they decided to leave.

"Goodbye, my animal friends!" Chlorine said as she waved them farewell. "See you again soon!"

Chlorine was not able to sleep that night because of her uncomfortable situation. But she didn't mind because she knew that someone would come looking for her soon.

The next day she waited and waited and waited...but no one ever arrived. As the sun began to set the coyotes returned. Chlorine watched as they circled around her, obviously expecting to be fed.

"Oh, I am so sorry my wonderful friends," Chlorine said. "I have no more food. But as soon as I am rescued I will return with plenty more goodies for you!"

Eventually the coyotes left...but as they did they seemed somewhat agitated and they growled a bit.

That night Chlorine was finally able to get a few hours' sleep...but the next morning she felt horrible. She had a headache and she could tell that the flow of blood to her trapped leg was beginning to weaken.

So she waited. She waited and waited all day long but no one ever came. As the sun began to set the coyotes returned again and began to circle her. But this time they immediately started getting very close and there was something menacing about their presence.

"I will return with more food soon," Chlorine promised with a slight quiver in her voice. "Never fear, my furry pals!"

But no sooner had she uttered these words when one of the coyotes suddenly lunged at her tearing off a large part of her right shoulder. She looked down in horror and began screaming as blood spurted all over her beautiful organic blouse. The loud noise apparently spurred the rest of the animals to react and they all jumped in to grab a chunk of meat. It wasn't long before several portions of Chlorine's arms and chest had been partially eaten away.

It was so nightmarish that she eventually stopped screaming and began tearing her clothes apart to make tourniquets to stop some of the bleeding. She was able to tie off the jagged flesh around her shoulders which minimized the loss of blood from her arms. But she was getting weaker and weaker...and eventually fell asleep and slept for a full eight hours.

Despite the horrific ordeal, Chlorine awoke the next day feeling much better. She knew that someone would come rescue her today. She just knew it. So she waited. She waited and waited and waited...but no one ever came. The sun began to set again...and the coyotes returned.

But this time the coyotes seemed seriously intent on getting fed. Their ravenous instincts made them run right up close. In a shocking and despicable flash they began madly eating away at the flesh on her face and torso. As the animals chewed and smacked with intense fervor Chlorine began crying and screaming. But the more she cried and screamed the more the animals tore away at her. They ate and ate and ate and ate...until finally there was nothing left but what appeared to be a bloody and weak old damp skeleton.

But amazingly Chlorine wasn't dead yet. Even though the animals had eaten most of what she had to offer her heart was still beating and her brain was intact. She lay almost motionless in disbelief as the coyotes began to howl. They howled and howled and howled some more and one by one excreted feces on top of her. And then they left, never to return because there was nothing left that was worth eating.

Chlorine lived for another 48 horrific unrelenting pain. Instead of dying quickly she died a very slow and excruciatingly intense death that was worse than anything anyone could ever imagine.

Animals eventually carried away her bones so that there was nothing left for anyone to find.

Chlorine died a violent and horrific death. She died a violent and horrific and completely pointless death.

Well, not completely pointless...

For therein lies the moral of the fable.

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The Fable of the Closet Homo

Once upon a time there was a handsome devoted husband and father named Daniel. He was 49 and, by all accounts, the perfect father and provider for his family of four. He had a high paying job as a mid-level account manager at a large corporation. When he wasn't working, Daniel spent most of his time with his wife Dammie and his two children...offering emotional support and guidance in any way that he could.

Yes, to the average observer it seemed as if David had everything. But what his family and friends didn't know was that there was trouble brewing deep within the recesses of his mind.

"Yes indeed, I do have everything," Daniel would often daydream to himself. "But there's just something that doesn't feel right."

The most troubling problem David was having was with his wife at night. Dammie was constantly craving physical attention and, to be quite blunt, David just wasn't ever in the mood to satisfy her anymore. It wasn't because she was unappealing. Dammie was intensely beautiful and men always noticed her wherever she went. One night after attempting to snuggle for over an hour, Dammie rolled over in frustration and let her feelings be known.

"Daniel, we need to talk," Dammie stammered as a tear fell from her left eye. "If you don't find me appealing anymore just tell me."

"But honey," said Daniel in his most consoling tone. "You know that I love you very, very much."

"Yes, I guess I know that, dear," Dammie replied wiping her tear away with a sanitary napkin. "But it just seems like things aren't the same as they used to be."

"Nothing is ever the way it used to be because things always change," Daniel reasoned. "But just the same, tomorrow I will try to find someone who can help me work through some of the issues going on in my mind."

The next morning Daniel called a brilliant psychologist and began rigorous twice-a-week counseling sessions. It wasn't long before the counselor came to an important conclusion.

"Daniel," the counselor said gently. "Don't you think it's about time you start admitting to yourself and everyone else that you are gay?"

"Me? Gay?" Daniel stuttered in disbelief. "That's ridiculous! I'm paying you $150 an hour to throw lies in my face? That's it!"

And with that, Daniel jumped to his feet and immediately left the psychologist's office never to return again.

But his day-to-day life continued to be difficult and problematic. Daniel felt less and less inclined to spend time with his wife and children...and he found himself increasingly drawn to internet dating sites that offered the ability to hook up with other homosexuals. He felt guilty and confused...but for some strange reason he couldn't help himself. He was drawn and compelled.

Daniel eventually met a young man online named Bland who he liked very, very much. Bland was particularly attractive and didn't look "gay" at all. Finally one week Daniel got up the courage to actually call Bland and speak to him. The next day they met face-to-face in a lavish hotel room on the north side of town. Although he was so nervous he could hardly look directly into the man's eyes, Daniel forced himself to face his fears. Before he knew what was happening he and Bland had their arms around one another and were about to kiss.

"Oh, Bland," Daniel cried as he began frantically kissing the man all over his neck and cheeks. "I've never said this to anyone before but now I can finally say it. I'm gay! I'm gay, I'm gay, I'm GAY!"

He felt an overwhelming feeling of relief as the words spilled from his lips. But in the midst of his confession he looked up and found that Bland had a large gun pointed at his forehead.

"Hand over the wallet, faggot," Bland said in a deep monotone. "Hand it over...or you die."

"But...but...but..." Daniel stuttered as he began to tremble.

"THE WALLET!!!" Bland screamed out as he rammed the gun harder into Daniel's face.

Quickly reaching into his back pocket, Daniel retrieved his wallet and handed it to Bland.

But in the end it didn't matter because Bland pulled the trigger anyway...immediately blowing Daniel's brains completely out the back of his goddamn head. Hair, skin, skull fragments, and brain chunks blasted across the room in an ugly tornado of bloody confusion. Bland quickly ran from the room, wallet in hand.

Daniel was dead. He died a violent death. He died a violent and horrific death. He died a violent and horrific and completely pointless death.

Well, not completely pointless...

For therein lies the moral of the fable.

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The Fable of the Lady Who Loved Haiti

Once upon a time there lived a very beautiful young girl named Trina Lapkin. Trina was very popular in her West Hollywood high school and her grades were always the highest in her class. Everyone who knew Trina knew she was destined to do very important things. Her parents were so wealthy that Trina never had to care about money. All she had to do was determine what she wanted to do in life because she always knew that there would be plenty of money to help her achieve whatever her goals might be.

During her college years Trina yearned to find that one special focus in her life that would give it real meaning. About the same time that she was graduating the national media was suddenly flooded with images of horrific natural disasters happening in Haiti. In between studying for her finals Trina stayed glued to her computer and television to stay abreast of all the depressing devastation in the country. Her father noticed her fascination and suggested that she might want to get involved.

"Trina, my dead," said Mr. Lapkin. "You're spending so much time watching what's going on in Haiti..."

"Yes, Father?" Trina replied excitedly. "Yes...???!!!"

"For your graduation present your mother and I thought you might want to visit the country to see first hand what is happening there."

"Oh YES, Father!" Trina squealed with youthful delight. "I would like that very, VERY MUCH!"

And with that the gift was sealed. No sooner than a week after graduation Trina found herself on an airplane flying to Haiti. Her head was filled with all kinds of fears and expectations. But above all the images most clear in her mind were the sad faces of all the poor unfortunate children whose lives had been virtually destroyed.

The trip was indeed an eye-opening experience for Trina. She was appalled at how dirty and filthy everything was. Even the "nice" parts of the country seemed desperate and unsuitable. But she as she watched and listened, she became fascinated with the people...with their positive outlook despite all odds...with their desire to rebuild...and, above all, with their strength and courage.

During the second week Trina visited a makeshift orphanage that housed hundreds of young children whose entire families had been killed. The children tugged at her skirt and cried for attention...many begging for food and shelter.

That night Trina cried and cried as she tried to go to sleep. But try as she may she couldn't get the images of those poor, poor children out of her head. The next morning a great big light bulb went off in her head. She decided then and there that she would manage a facility in Southern California where victimized Haitian children could live. On her return trip to the United States she would take back 100 children with her on the plane. She contacted her parents who immediately began finding a facility that would serve as a large home for all of the newly relocated kids.

It wasn't long before Trina was proudly running a successful childrens' home. But as the weeks went by the children began to seem somewhat fidgety and anxious. That's when Trina decided to treat them all to a bus tour of the Painted Desert in Arizona. When she told the children about the trip they all squealed with excitement.

"Oh, THANK YOU, nice nice rich lady!" one of the young girls cried out.

"We are very LUCKIEST children in WORLD!" exclaimed another with glee.

The next day Trina and the children boarded a luxury tour bus and were on their way to Arizona. The weather was just beautiful. As they passed over the state line the sky was aglow with vivid shades of red and purple. She decided that singing was in the entire busload began singing native Haitian songs about peace and unity in the world.

But just as they rounded a very steep curve, the sky went black as a huge dark shape suddenly appeared from above. And before anyone knew what was happening, a mammoth black funnel cloud was headed directly toward the bus. It was an F5 category...TORNADO.

Trina screamed for the driver to stop as she hurriedly began gathering all the children toward the exit doors. But it was too late. The tornado picked up the bus and immediately tore it to pieces...killing everyone inside. No one survived. Not a single fucking person survived. Every single fucking goddamn wurfliss person died a horrific and pointless death.

Well, not completely pointless...

For therein lies the moral of the fable.

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