Miss Wabble in Love
Miss Darlene Wabble brushed her long blonde hair, gazed at her reflection in the mirror and lamented the day her boyfriend, Mickey, had run off with Starina Strapazoid, the star of the Interstellar Circus Circuit and abandoned Darlene on planet Poiple to rot.
Sure planet Poiple was a pretty nice place to rot as far as rotting goes — and Mickey had left Darlene everything she needed for her impending decomposition, a lifetime supply of Marie Callender Chicken Pot Pies, pirated HBO and a nice big fenced back yard to keep the pesky and dangerous Poiple Platacorns at bay, but you really couldn’t call Miss Darlene Wabble happy. Cheerful, possibly, but let’s not split hairs so early in the story.
One day, while Darlene was practicing her marksmanship on the Platacorns through her living room window with her high-powered, semi-automatic potato gun (a Christmas gift from Mickey), there was a knock at the door, and guess who it was? Did you guess Mickey? Good guess!
Only not Mickey, her boyfriend, but Mickey the guy who lived next door whose name was also Mickey only he spelled it Mikki which was kind of sad even for someone from planet Poiple.
Mikki had come to borrow a potato because he had his heart set on having a potato for supper even though he was completely out of potatoes but had every other kind of tuber in his pantry. But oh no! Mikki just had to have a potato for supper which should give you some idea of what it was like living with the people on planet Poiple or the Poiplians as they referred to themselves whenever they could find a way to fit it into the conversation (which was way more important to them than it should have been).
As soon as Mikki blurted out his request to borrow a potato, Darlene immediately handed over her high-powered, semi-automatic potato gun to Mikki. After that Mikki invited Darlene over for supper, and they fell madly in love while Mikki was shooting out one hell of a potato salad!
And thus they lived happily until they died and eventually rotted but let’s don’t talk about that now.
The End.
Now go to sleep.
Oh and P.S. Try not to have nightmares about the Nine-legged, hump-backed Poiple Platacorn as they don’t even exist . . . as far as we know . . .