The Care and feeding of Critter Monsters.

Welcome to my madness. Cash only, no refunds or exchanges, caveat emptor. Mental-floss not included. Eye bleach Xtra. You were warned.

“I know the Flatlanders keep bringing their politicians! You have to stop feeding them to the Crocofiends!” Ralph hung his head, “ Yes sir, but, they like them so much!”

Thomas stomped away, “ I don't care! Do it again and I will feed you to them!” Politicians were, while cheap meat, problematic.

Democrats tended to cause the Crocofiends and flying Quetzalcoatls explosive gas and diarrhea. Republicans caused gassy constipation. Both situations were hideous to deal with.

A pity the giant Armadillos and were-racoons wouldn't touch them. Not even the pig-orcs would touch them. The politicos tended to run to fat and bloated. Most of the carnivorous delights preferred lean or well marbled.

Better to use them as feed and fertilizer for the carnivorous roses.

The struggles of running the critter monster rescue ranch.

They were still making payments on the judgment that had been levied by the county judge. The former manager had tried to make the ranch profitable.

Apparently turning it into a petting zoo had been somewhat ill considered.

In the distance a cockatrice crowed. Thomas sighed. Soon it would be dawn, and the dragons would be demanding their breakfast. Thomas considered disguising the politicians as virgins.

Dress a few in white , the Dragons shouldn't notice. They usually didn't even chew! Hmmm…

Several hours later, exhausted from Manning the fire hose and wearing the full NBC suit and air tanks. Thomas swore never again.

Who knew politicians caused flaming flatulence, acid diarrhea and fire burps in dragons? Oh mother of mercy the stench! Even through the gas mask and O2 bottle!

Some days there just wasn't enough coffee or tequila to deal with the stress. But hey, the towns folk were happy and taxes were lower now so maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

Cockatrice tastes like chicken. A bit chewy, like over cooked Rattle snake or Gator tail. It does have a pretty white color to it. Even if it was like Chicken flavored chewing gum. Under cooked it was easier to chew, however the moment it hit the stomach, it caused rather energetic reactions.

Something in the meat reacted with stomach acid, which is primarily Hydrochloric acid. Producing Hydrogen gas and a methane-sulfur horror compound. Both of which were volatile. Elon Musk should really look into this effect. I bet it would be even more energetic than the methane compound he currently uses for rocket fuel.

Thomas discovered the enervating aspects of Cockatrice jambalaya by accident. As many truly informative experiences are. William unfortunately had been a chain smoker. Right up to the last moment of his life.

To say his send off had been spectacular as well as memorable would be an understatement of enormous standards. It created a fourth of July event that all who witnessed it would never forget.

The courts had mandated that the Rescue Ranch, pay for the CPTSD therapy and related trauma treatments for all affected cook out attendees. Which placed another strain on ranch finances.

At least William had been a full time employee, and his benefits package had included life insurance along with liability waivers. When his widow had sought a law suit the courts had sided with the ranch for once.

William began feeling ill right in the middle of his third bowl of Jambalaya. After the loud stomach gurgling and raucous flatulence he had hurriedly excused himself, fleeing from the pavilion. To the great relief of everyone seated at the tables. Especially his wife.

Perched on a bench a good Fifty yards away, William lit a cigarette. To settle himself down it was assumed. There was a loud ripping sound that merged into an tremendous “ Whoompff” sound.

William , sort of levitated , a column of fire emerged from his lower rearwards region. After a moment, fire shot out of his mouth and the levitating William began to spin, and gain altitude rapidly. The flaming spinning William flew through the high roofed pavilion igniting the Fourth of July decorations , which ignited stockpiles of illegal fireworks. There was a nasty rotten egg stench left in Williams wake.

A cacophony of Roman candles, bottle rockets, mini mortars, fire crackers, and M-80s scattered the attendees in all directions. William, continued gaining altitude, disappearing into the early night.

A bright pinwheel of fire marking his path. They never recovered his body. Remarkably, no one else was injured. Physically at least.

Thomas, after a decade of managing the Critter monster rescue ranch, and the various Redneck rampages, Hill folk rambunctiousness and Hellbilly adventures with the employees, was nonplussed.

Between the great petting zoo debacle, the political scandal when they had been accused of election interference, however there was no evidence. So no charges could be filed. Even so called witnesses had disappeared.

The Pig -orc wrangle, and the giant armadillo chase through Knoxville,

Along with normal day to day Appalachian American wonders. “ Here hold my beer” can be both entertaining and terrifying.

Twenty years ago, when He had written His Masters Thesis on a comparison of modern flightless birds with Raptor fossils. He had never imagined that a degree in Paleontology, would translate into a career in cryptozoology, working with living Cryptids.

William had been the one to begin the tradition of calling them critter monsters. Insisting on petting and hand feeding many of them.

Thomas really missed William. William never called in sick, had never missed a day and, had cooked a mean Jambalaya.

Life , is an adventure. Always cook the critter correctly. And stay away from open flames and enclosed spaces when eating exotic Jambalaya.

Jamie Morrison was like a fish out of water in East Tennessee. His thick Scotts accent was a dead giveaway, and the ladies most certainly did adore him.

6'6", Black haired, eyes the dark blue of twilight skies. Fit, Lean, built like a gymnast or an Olympic swimmer.

Jamie held more than a passing resemblance to his name sake.

His Mother was a devout Doors fan. So, James Douglas Morrison he had been christened.

  Well, that's the best way to describe the ceremony when he had been formally presented to the clan at three years of age.

The Selkies of Skye had their own clannish ways. Jamie's mother Elspeth , the youngest daughter of the clan chief and the most rebellious of his sixteen daughters, had chosen not to take her own clannish name. Choosing instead to name her son after her rock god crush.

Besides, no one could figure out how to translate little Jamie's father's name Anyway. Orca names do not translate into human languages.  Nor could humans or Selkies reproduce the frequencies involved in the complicated tones of Orca speech. Which didn't matter to Jamie anyway.

He had never met his father, that he knew of. Nor could he speak in Orca, even though he happened to be a Were-Orca. Jamie's mother had been both rebellious and adventurous.

Seems rather than shedding his human skin to become a Seal, Jamie shape shifted into an orca.

Turning into a Killer Whale created interesting issues for him growing up. None of the Selkie children would play with him. That was why Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer had been his favorite Christmas show growing up.

As an adult, being a Were-Orca presented it's own complications.

Apparently it is considered bad form to eat green peace protesters that we're trying to stop oil production at the off shore platform where Jamie happened to be employed as a pipe fitter and rigger.

Jamie , refused comment on the matter. Leaving his job in the North sea and home in the Orkney Isles for warmer, distant shores. Finding refuge working oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico and partying in Mobile Alabama.

Jamie's refuge was short lived. There was another violent peaceful protest incident. Jamie's temper and appetite once again got the better of him. This time however, His shift supervisor, a Cajun Loupgarou from Louisiana was very sympathetic to Jamie's situation.

Elwood and Jamie had been fishing near Nawlins, ( New Orleans) when the Vegan animal rights protesters accosted them. Both men were annoyed, both transformed.

Elwood began throwing protesters off of the dock to Jamie prowling in the Marina. Most tossee’s Elwood had taken a bite out of, before spitting the bits out in disgust and tossing them to Jamie. Leftist vegans tend to leave a terrible aftertaste. Soy is nasty to a carnivore. Though, Elwood did make sure to only nip a few and release them. He thought it a great joke to turn vegans. Especially protesters.

The State police, officially, took a dim view of the events. Unofficial beliefs however ran to gratitude and relief. Political activists had been bussing in these protesters , from San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle on a regular basis.

Seizing on a P.R. opportunity the State police first, drove the men north to Memphis Tennessee. Then made multiple announcements, press interviews about a group of organized armed counter protesters and how they were still unidentified, thus the police couldn't guarantee the safety of protesters.

This dramatically affected the ability of organizers to recruit protesters. A win win for both local residents and law enforcement. 

Which is the why and how, Elwood and Jamie were sitting at the truck stop on I-40, feasting on steak, eggs, biscuits and gravy and hash browns when Thomas walked in.

Fate has her fun and games it seems. Thomas had just rescued a horde of Were-otters, which were being problematic in the transport back to the ranch. Being short handed after the orbital demise of William, Thomas had been attempting to wrangle the otter- spider monkey cross were-critters on his own.

Have you ever chased Were-Otters through a Truck Stops of America facility? Some were Otters that transformed to over sized spider monkeys, some were Spider Monkeys that morphed into Otters. All were morphed, all were 4ft tall mixes bent on havoc.

Challenging to say the least.

Funny as hell Jamie and Elwood thought. They couldn't resist, the chase looked fun, the chaos was amusing, and the challenge was impressive.

Jamie hit on the idea of using bananas as bait, though about half ignored the fruit. Elwood had a brainstorm and fetched The fried catfish from the buffet.

That worked sort of. It brought the buffet and salad bar to the attention of the Were-Otters. Which, with a bit of round and round and over the top all seventeen critter monsters were retrieved.

They were pulling onto I-40 east bound as the Memphis police were arriving at the truck stop.

Introductions and conversations ensued, Thomas offered Jamie and Elwood jobs, room and board, adventure, and a guaranteed exotic diet. It was match made in heaven.

“Boii, you best wipe me off your chin afore talking like that.” Elwood tossed a soiled napkin at the Big guy in the University of Tennessee Jersey. The football fan was confused. The older patrons laughed. Enjoying himself, now playing for an audience, Elwood waxed eloquently.

“Tell me boyee, your momma own stock in hall mark?” The big oaf was even more confused. Jamie started laughing when the oaf answered. “ What? Huh? Uh, no. What the “

Elwood cut him off, “ oh? How do you afford all those fathers day cards?” The crowded bar laughed. The idiot U.T. jersey boy was still confused. Elwood picked up the pitcher of beer and chugged it.

Jamie, slipped an arm across the boiis shoulder to whisper in his ear, explaining. A strangled “ mother fuck” escaped as the jersey boy charged Elwood.

Elwood slammed the large plastic beer pitcher across jersey boys face. The plastic exploded leaving the handle in Elwood's hand. Jersey boys feet continued forward as his head snapped back. Jamie caught him , lowering him gently to the floor.

Things settled down. Bouncers dragged jersey boy out into the parking lot. Jamie and Elwood perched themselves at the table where jersey boy had been sitting.

In short order, more drinks flowed and the young ladies were hanging on every word Jamie uttered. He was seriously playing up his Scotts burr. A typical Monday night in Knoxville.

Picture a fire hydrant with arms, legs and a head. All in proportion with zero body fat. Make it 5'7" tall. Give it a dirty blonde shoulder length mullet, light brown eyes 

And voila, Ellwood Mullins.

Ugly would, honestly, be polite.

 Still, the ladies liked him.

GOD had blessed Ellwood with miles of personality, overbearing confidence, a smart ass temperament, and an iron clad Chivalry. Men, all men, were fair game for his short temper and unsubtle, slightly violent sense of humor. 

Women, were to be cherished, and wooed. Treated with patience and consideration. All women. Ellwood detested the soy boy predators that masqueraded as " feminists" that preyed on women most of all.

Elwood  didn't particularly like most folks anyway. To date, every male “feminist ally” he had run across had been a predator stalking and preying on women. Ellwood would not tolerate that. 

It had been Jersey boys pontifications on social issues. Regurgitating leftist talking points that had drawn Ellwoods ire. That, and the two clearly underage girls accompanying him.

Typical predator behavior. The Scum pretend to be "allies" and " safe" while grooming vulnerable targets. Ellwood had listened just long enough to make sure jersey boy wasn't family or an any sort appropriate adult accompanying them.

After the altercation, and removal of jersey boy. Elwood stumbled and accidentally knocked the drinks that had been on their table to the floor.

Jamie taking his cues from Ellwood wink and head nods, chivalrously swept the young ladies from the path of free flowing fluids. They were well underage to begin with.

  Not long after, the Young ladies were in a safe Uber headed home. Ellwood had paid for it after talking with the younger girls mother on her cel. Fourteen was far too young to be unaccompanied in a sports bar.

While Ellwood  was busy discussing why the bouncers and management were not pleased with his further presence. Jamie's cel began playing " Holy Diver". He didn't answer it, just checked his text messages. 

The Boss was sending out a red alert. Bobbi Lee had gotten into the Moonshine and Mushrooms again. Seemed she was rampaging around, with a giant armadillo and a drunken skunk-ape. Jamie held the cel up to Ellwood’s face. Ellwood read the screen. His frown turned upside down. As far as he was concerned the evening had gotten better. 

Williams daughter, Bobbi Lee, it should be noted, is a chip off the old block. Roberta Elizabeth Lee, is one hundred and ten percent pure Hellbilly. A six foot red haired green eyed hellion of a  Hellbilly Goth Amazon babe. With a bleeding Black Rose tattooed on the right side of her neck.

She often stormed about In her skin tight Black leather overalls, covered in spikes, and lacy camisole wearing black Corcoran Jump boots and carrying a bonafide Chippewa peace axe. One of those Tomahawk-peace pipes, decorated with crow and raven feathers.  A large Arkansas Toothpick protruding from her right boot top.

Ellwood, as well as Jamie, both had serious crushes on her. For her part, she was indifferent to both men in their human forms, preferring to snuggle Ellwood in his Wolf form. Ellwood didn't mind. Ear massages and belly rubs were always a plus.

With Jamie, she loved trick riding in the lake with his Orca form. Jamie had fun, however he did think Ellwood got the better deal. She had scratched  Jamie's belly once. 

The resulting, awakened arousal had left Bobbi Lee wide eyed. She looked at Jamie sort of funny for a few weeks after and never scratched his Orca belly again.

She also took to wearing a riveted Titanium chain maille bikini for their swims after that.

Ellwood exited I-75 just north of Cleveland Tennessee. Bonnaroo was in full swing and Bobbi Lee , upon learning Alice Cooper would be there had decided she was going. Thus, Ellwood and Jamie had intercepted her as the Giant Armadillo she and the drunken Skunk Ape were riding, were terrifying the fine evangelical citizens of Cleveland. The towns folk were, put out to say the least.

Ellwood and Jamie watched in a spell bound wonder.

It's not often you see a gorgeous redhead built like Dolly Parton, wearing a chain maille bikini, riding on the shoulders of a kilt wearing young Sasquatch, perched on a giant armadillo.

Neither man had a clue as to how or what to do. They did know it wouldn't be long before someone called out the national guard and Apache  and Blackhawk Helicopters would respond.

Ellwood produced a bottle of Kraken rum. The two men perched on the Hood of the beat up Chevy pickup, sipped and brainstormed.  Bobbi Lee was yeehaw yelling, and yodeling in glee, the Skunk ape hooting, grunting and growling in joy. The Armadillo was chasing police cars. 

After a few shots of the Black Rum, the men concluded that the only thing was to separate Bobbi Lee and her Furry companion from the Armadillo.

More drinks, with Rip It chasers, provided a plan of action.

 They hurried about their business. Already they could hear the helicopters in bound.

Jamie got into position, both he and Ellwood braced them selves. As soon as The behemoth Armadillo approached into range, the two transformed.

Jamie stretched out his Whale tail, Werewolf Ellwood leapt onto Jamie's tail. 

One tail flick launched The wolf man into the air, the second flick swatted Ellwood into a long arc.

 Jamie's aim had been in accurate. Which was a grand thing Ellwood thought, that swat had hurt! Ellwood slammed into the Armadillo, tucked, rolled across the behemoth shell back and still using momentum from Jamie's Swat, spread his arms wide , managing to grab Bobbi Lee in a wolf hug as he hurtled past, while knocking the Skunk ape head over heels off of the Armadillo.

The Armadillo continued undirected onto 1-75, now north bound.  Jamie had transformed back into his human form, leapt into the Pick up and lit out for Ellwood and Bobbi Lee.

He found them curled up on the road side. The Skunk ape was passed out, a wasted Bobbi Lee was rubbing Ellwoods fuzzy belly and giggling happily. In the distance , the sound of helicopters,  twenty mike mike chain guns and Hell Fire missiles announced the Tennessee National Guards presence.

Jamie opened the Truck door, Bobbi Lee followed Ellwood’s full on Wolf form into the cab. Jamie had just closed the tailgate from dragging the drunken passed out Skunk ape up into the truck bed and thrown a tarp over the snoring squatchoid. When a convoy of Tennessee Highway patrol drove past.

Jamie waited till he couldn't see the state troopers anymore and pulled back onto the road.

 With any luck the police and guard would be distracted with the mess they had made of the Sixty foot long Armadillo, allowing Jamie to get the four of them away discreetly.

Another Day another dollar another adventure. Jamie decided that, yes, this was a good job, and a great life.

He slid a CD he had burned into the CD player. Tesstamona blasted out, rapping about life, triumph and struggle. Bobbi Lee sang along with him. Ellwood howled along in key.

It took them two days to make the ninety minute trip. Bobbi Lee had spiked their rip its and rum. Ellwood, Jamie and Bobbi Lee were tripping balls talking to a cricket when the Skunk ape came to and took the truck keys. Which had been easy. Jamie had shifted and was flopping around on the red clay dirt road.

It took the better part of a day to learn to drive, and wrestle the Orca into the bed of the Truck. The Skunk Ape tried, but couldn't figure out how to turn off or eject the CD. Somehow it was on a continuous loop playing the best of Tesstamona.

Ellwood insisted on riding shotgun, with his wolfy head out the window. Bobbi Lee was riding on Jamie in the bed of the truck. They did pass a couple of county sheriff deputies and a Game and fish officer. All three just waved while trying to look away.

Demonic possession is nothing to joke about. It is not funny.

Well, maybe sometimes, when it happens to someone that annoyed you it is.

Still. It isn't polite to laugh.

It is not like the time you found your friends sister's , personal massager and rigged it with a Taser.

Or when you volunteered to pay for your ex girlfriends boob job after the break up. Okay paying extra for the Venezuelan plastic surgeon to slip in the squeakey toy squeakers, and the blue tooth LED lights was original.

Still don't see why she was mad.

Pretty sure her new Bob will love em!

No, Demonic possession is not funny.

Most times.

Still, Bobbi Lee had to make the voodoo hoodoo doll of ole miss Dykme out of a pickle a jelly donut and a worn out sock. Original maybe, weird definitely.

No one could have foreseen a horde of highly excited Leprechauns and that mass of possessed oozing quivering strawberry jello. Bobbi Lee did save the day by donating the Jello to the Nunnery. That was inspired. It is not Bobbi Lee's fault the nuns all got possessed by various foul mouthed satanic comedian spirits.

Or , that a demonic possessed jelly donut would possess old miss Dykme. At least she isn't being destructive , just laying there quietly covered in powdered sugar screaming eat me. The pickle. Oh Great Tennessee titty knocker dirt roads , that was sheer evil.

A lust demon manifesting in a jive talking pickle. Of course Ellwood had to hide it in the pickle barrel at the general store in Knoxville. Who knew it could infect all the pickles in the barrel then all those Yankee tourists driving through and gassing up at the pump n go! Here's a hint, if locals don't shop there, you shouldn't either. If locals don't eat the thing, you probably shouldn't either. If a pickle barrel in the country store is full and talking to you, you can be sure eating one of those pickles is going to go in places ways and means you never intended.

Still of it all the Leprechauns were the worst. It's a good thing that episode of oh what the bloody hell is next went down in a whole nother state. Dalonegha Georgia used to have a working gold mine. Used to have. And the chaos at the pride parade. Drunken conservative leprechauns and all those rainbows everywhere. Slapping a Three foot tall leprechaun is a bad plan. Even if he did loudly announce, " Gee, your hair smells terrific!"

We will not be discussing the haunted sock escapades either. Some things just ain't proper to share and some places socks should never be, invited or not!

There are days that just fly by, feeling like just minutes passed.

Then there are those days that feel like a month of sundays.

Luckily, the Nunnery don't wanna admit what happened, and the folks in Dalonegha are convinced Irish tourists or a bad batch of lucky charms was behind their excitement. Old miss Dykme ain't got no family hereabouts and nobody liked her anyway so ain't no one gonna miss her.

Still don't know what to do about that sock on the loose.

Just another Sunday at the Critter Monsters Rescue Ranch.

Y’All have a great day now and bless your hearts!

Never trust a sea dragon. Just say no to the sea dragon. Most crucial, never drink the Kraken rum with a sea dragon. This is one of life's little lessons you never want to purchase. Not even on a half off clearance special.

Also, the single Most horrific sight that can be imagined is a shaved smooth Sasquatch. That wrinkled, puckered amalgamated holy freaking flesh shock would scare Chthulu straight.

People only think a bald black bear is terrifying.

There are sights and experiences that make living through every rite and curse of the necronomicon seem like a trip to Baskin Robbins.

Whatever you do, don't let the Sasquatch and Sea dragon drink together. Ever. Most especially, never rent the premises of a critter monster rescue ranch to a Druid convention. Drunken Party Druids are inventive evil catastrophes. Also, Old Weller 107 proof Whiskey is not a proper chaser for Kraken 90 proof black spiced rum. No matter what the Druid claims.

Dice rolls for initiative and damage, do not lessen either the supreme shock event or the permanent mental scarring from witnessing such.

There is no name. No words sick enough. No language perverse enough to describe the events. I think several local animal species went extinct from the disgust.

A three-way orgy of a wasted Druid, a Bald Squatch and an excited sea dragon would make Japanese tentacle porn addicts gouge their eyes out.

Thomas wanted to sell the security video to one of those aversion therapy centers for sex addicts. The Demon that managed acquisitions threw up all over Thomas's desk. So that idea was a bust.

The C.I.A. did lease a copy for interrogating captured terrorists. I hope we don't get charged with war crimes.

A Sea Dragon has Three sexual organs. I will leave the rest of that thought right there.

Druids can shape shift into various animal forms and minimal forms.

We already mentioned the hairless Squatch. They did not, take turns. It was, oh gods ,it was, oh fecking hell. You couldn't look away and you will never understand it.

The sounds will haunt us forever.

When the Squatch and the druid went noodling for giant catfish , things got even more crazed.

How could they noodle while the sea dragon was doing those things with its things to their things.

Horrified T.V.A agents called Fish and Game. The wildlife officer that responded screamed once, then dropped into convulsions.

That unholy Trinity gave whole new meanings to the word Clinch with what they were doing in the Clinch river. The walleye were wide eyed. The crawdads will never recover. Crustacean sensibilities tend to be conservatively sensibly sensitive.

We will have to post warning signs lest some innocent catches a fish there or down river. I hope they got the Damned Dam outflow shut down, and the river diverted so the TVA could filter the , polluted aspects out of the water.

Also.

Peaches should not be strung together on Fishing gill stringers and used as, pleasure beads. It doesn't matter that they are fuzzy.

Leprechauns,

Coexisting with Leprechauns is better done in complete ignorance of their existence, habits or anything else about them. If you, dear reader would continue in bliss filled ignorance, without heart wrenching moments of paranoia and questioning every aspect and instance of existence. STOP READING NOW.

The nicest thing I can say about Leprechauns is that knowing them is like eating Magick mushrooms, snorting whiskey and  trying to unseen/un think about and forget what ever happened, in a state perpetual dismay.

Finding and testing for Virgin goats in places terrorized by Daesh would be less risky and frustrating.

A dinner party hosted by cannibals would be more tasteful.

Leprechauns are THE original model of " Here hold my beer" Rednecks.

The worst parody of trailer park meth madness is the most genteel experience with a Leprechaun.

You Have Been Warned.

To begin I will explain what a leprechaun is not. Leprechauns are not nice, silly little icons of children's breakfast cereal. They are not like Lucky the leprechaun.

Leprechauns are not like the evil malicious horror critters of the Leprechaun horror franchise either, exactly.

Leprechauns are not greedy, they are however obsessed with lust.

Leprechauns are not exactly good nor are they precisely evil. Leprechauns have less than zero fucks.

Let that sink in. Less Than Zero Fucks.

Originally Leprechauns were the Gods of the Celtic people along the Atlantic fringe of Western Europe. We may have forgotten they were Gods, rest assured, They have not.

Think of a shape shifting Bugs Bunnies with a 2000 IQ,  Zero Fucks, hyper A.D.D./H.D. and to whom we humans are as, Elmer Fudd. That's as kind of an analogy I can come up with.

Leprechauns are shape shifters.

No one knows what a Leprechaun looks like in their original form.  I am not sure if Leprechauns remember anymore.

"Great leaping leprechauns of lust

all covered in glittering pixie dust!

Twisting and turning,

Stirring and churning,

Something is burning, to

Holy hell fire, What the fuck!"

Sorry about that. My coffee cup turned out to be an offended and aggravated Leprechaun. My coffee was still hot.

Where was I?

Oh yes.

The WereBadger.

When Leprechauns go to war they ride on the backs of Battle Badgers.

These Battle Badgers are WereBadgers.

Leprechauns created WereBadgers eons ago.

If that wasn't terrifying enough,

The HOW of creating WereBadgers is deeply disturbing.

One of the primary attributes of Leprechauns is lust. Think of twisted demented  nymphomaniacal Bugs Bunny Cupid's with No boundaries and less than zero fucks and Millenia of experience with inventing various kinks.

That is why the Badgers are frightened and worried. Now you know the source of the Badger attitude.

BTW,

The sickly manic orgy of the Druid, Water Dragon and Sasquatch, was caused by bored leprechauns.

Seems they made a porno film

And invested in an in patient mental hospital chain.

They are making bank coming and going.

I think I will raise their rent.

  The Rescue Ranch insurance rates are Astronomical.

As are the Attorneys retainer fees.

Not to mention , buying off county, state and federal inspectors, Agencies and members of the legislature.

  Until next time,

Remember our sponsors!

GNOME AWAY and

DONN'S WYKKYD AMBITIONS PIZZA MORGUE!   Where yesterday's loss is Today's Sauce!

Today's special,  is Finger Licking Good, our Special sauce is Toe sucking Evil.

Call for reservations.

666-666-0789 Ext OU812.

If you find my tasteless insanity tasty, remember, therapy for my therapist, emotional support axes and coffee are expensive