Oh no! she realised suddenly. Witches' bums are too green and warty for the Porsiplagic force fields even to be slightly effected by the onslaught of fizzy soda.
...when he realised that she'd spent all her life pretending that she couldn't actually speak Spanish.
The secret was out.
But at the sight of demolished sausages all around us, the world was suddenly so much more difficult to understand.
"But," my companions suggested. "Perhaps the Great Compost Rat could give us some answers."
(...500th post...)
"Mmm..." said the Great Compost Rat, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful sort of way. "You didn't accidentally slip that into the clothes dryer, did you?"
"Not sure," I mumbled. But a seed of a memory peeked cheekily from the darkness. "Perhaps..."
"Never mind." He offered me some of his apricot liquer. "'Ere. Very popular with the ants, this. Puts hairs on your antennae."
I was about to point out to him that I was not in fact an ant, and therefore had no antennae. But, raising my hand to my forehead, I suddenly found...
Showering over my head as though they would never stop, the shower of licorice drops planted themselves in the ground, where they sprouted to form...
... with his plot to take over our world from a Scandanavian outpost, where he would set up a transmission device to summon his exiled troops from the Planet...
"My name is Ligferrat," the corner replied. "In my language it means 'one who jumps out at extraterrestrial chickens'."
"Well," said Mog. "You are certainly living up to that name. Why do you feel such a great need to jump out at me?"
which was, "Come on and set the table. We're having the Purple People Eater over for dinner."
"Aargh!" screamed Mogfelat.
"Don't worry," Ligferrat whispered in his ear.
"Don't worry?!?!?! But... You heard her!!"
"Don't worry, I said." Ligferrat winked. "What I haven't told you yet is, I'm not really a corner."
Mogfelat stared. His face had paled to an odd shade of lilac.
"Not really a corner?"
"No," replied Ligferrat. "Don't tell your mother, but I'm here in disguise. I'm really the chief of the tribe of Purple People Eater Hunters."
"But Mother! You wouldn't!" Lig & Mog gasped, 100% shocked. However, the sound of Mother sharpening the carving knives drowned out their pathetic protests.
...A deep, echoing boom on the hollow wood.
"Come in," he says.
The door creaks open on hinges so rusty that he can see the dark leaking brown in between them. So much that he can feel the tension of the person trying to open it.
He holds his breath, waiting...
Just when the stomping of a thousand heavy booted feet rises almost to unbearable heights, the great voice of Deus cries from the sky. "Confundus et perturbatus sum!"
"What?" shouted Al.
"I am confounded and confused!" the voice of Deus shouted. "Is that a clarification?"
...and that his outer shell glistened blackly in the moonlight.
"Wings," thinks he. "How peculiar, for one such as me to have wings! Well, at least now I can survive a nuclear winter."
I saw the dirty grey shadow of a tornado on the horizon.
And she knew full well that with the first taste of stop and grow, she would turn into...