Porcupine's Lament, Part I

The minute hand progressed with haste, and the melancholy porcupine knew that time was not on his side.

Plucking a quill from his side, he proceeded to write a farewell letter to his lover, the elegant and eccentric emu.

"Dear Desmond," he wrote. "I cannot touch you without injuring you. I no longer wish to harm you. I would rather shed my own blood."

As he dipped his quill into the well, tears fell from his eyes and diluted the ink. He struggled to finish the letter.

"Unhand me at once," demanded the headstrong princess, as she squirmed out of the knight's grasp. "I was quite comfortable with the dragon. In addition, your body odor is quite offensive. If you are bold enough to approach me again at a later date, I advise that you bathe in water infused with lavender and roses in anticipation."

The knight stood aghast from his cold abandonment. He felt his dignity crumble abruptly. Discouraged from the princess' scorn, he turned his blade upon himself. A stream of crimson permeated the snow.

As Murphy lowered the pint of Guinness from his lips, he came to an epiphany.

Gleefully intertwined like a perplexing pretzel, the toaster and the coffee pot danced the cha-cha-cha.

"I will not eat the cracker," protested the cockatiel, "for it is against my religion."

Frustrated with the bird's insolent squawking, Mr. Milton began plotting Polly's demise.

At 5:03 PM, the proselytizing cockatiel was greeted by a boiling pot and maniacal laughter.

The pachyderm's piercing glare petrified the timid primate. The elephant spat at the ape in disgust, then defecated on his doorstep.

The innocent ape, now fed up with the elephant's arrogance, retaliated against him, and flung his opponent's excrement back at him.

The elephant, stunned by the ape's temerity, retreated to his nest, and resorted to knitting doilies for prospective tea parties.

Quite pleased with his triumph, the ape flashed an ecstatic grin and celebrated by doing the helicopter.