This is one of my "Tales of SNOGGO", the great adventurer, lover and international hero.


SNOGGO and the Slavering Beast

Midnight. A country road. Silence. Except for the wind sighing in the trees. A sickle moon peeped out from behind a slow moving cloud. I glanced around nervously as I walked along. Why should I be nervous? What was there to be nervous about? Why should I, a six foot four inches, beautifully proportioned specimen of manhood, muscular, brave and incredibly handsome be nervous? Phooey! It was not as though there had been many murders on this stretch of lonely desolate country road which I just happened to be walking along. I shrugged off my childish fears. With a shrug. Well, all right, there had been a few killings last week, including the multiple one where three fit adults, armed to the teeth and wearing armour-plated vests, had had their fucking throats ripped out. But last week had been a particularly bad week round this district. The week before had been better I seemed to recall. Or had it? Memory played tricks when you were sweating with slight nervousness.

I walked on moderately fearlessly, casting an eye over my shoulder just in case the person they called the Slavering Beast just happened to be there. But he wasn't, so I kept on walking (just like Felix in the song). The moon shone as I walked slowly down the road, my sandals occasionally squelching in a horse turd and then the moon slipped behind a dark cloud. It was as dark as night. Well, it was night, so that's not so surprising.

Then out of nowhere it came. With a dreadful suddenness I was seized from behind; I smelled the hideous stench of the creature's breath: stale garlic, mixed with rampant tooth decay. I felt his teeth on the back of my neck, ripping and gouging, biting viciously into my shoulder and seriously damaging my cashmere pullover. It was time for some goddam no holds barred action! Quick as a flash I swung round, smashed him one in the face with the mighty club I was carrying (did I mention the club before?) and I beheld him: the so-called Slavering Beast stood before me, slavering and looking fucking surprised in the moonlight (did I mention the moon had come out again?). And I rained down blow after blow on the Slavering Beast until he lay still on the lonely country road, as dead as a doornail. "Take that!" I shrieked, giving him a damned good kick in the ear as he lay there.

And that is the ghastly tale of how SNOGGO the great and fearless hero killed the not-so-bloody-clever-after-all Slavering Beast.





Short story by Edna Sweetlove
Read 1034 times
Written on 2006-10-07 at 12:56

Tags Humor  Fantasy  Romance 

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