The wolf fancied himself as an abstract artist. This was just a nicer way of saying he was perpetually lazy. The fact remained, he was really lazy; lazier than the three drunken racists fast asleep under that orange tree with sombreros over their snoring, slobbering faces.
The banana was complacent in the sun, basking in its luxurious yellow. For the first time in its short life, it realized truth is omnipresent from within and without. This epiphany was short-lived, when a monkey devoured it whole.
The dog was loyal to a fault, which made him an easy target for the cunning wolf. Before I proceed, it must be known, and I don’t care if you think I’m one of those animalists, but all wolves are horrible. As far as animals go, they are the North Koreans. They are ignorant and evil by association to their leader, Little Rocketman. By the way, don’t get me started on North Korean wolves. The worst.
For hours, a tortoise looked up to admire the flight of the most beautiful eagle soaring through the skies with grace and ease. He had always been envious of flight, after all, he had been a low to the ground, crawling reptile for the last 79 years. As the eagle landed, the tortoise shouted, “Bravo, eagle, bravo.”
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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