The Shebbit

For those who like to break the rules: Other worldly humour The Shebbit Whilst walking through a bulder wong, I thought I heard a shebbit’s song. The skriller notes went through my head and I cried out loud in fearful dread. For the greater shebbit is a shark toothed bird. I know that really sounds absurd, but it’s fangs are sharp and very long and its rear emits a squnk-like pong. So I took off like a scroffulous klat, coz with shebbits you don’t stop to chat but I tripped up on a grumptious krake, who skeeched, “Oh do watch out for goodness sake.” The shebbit hearing this commotion, flappered leathery wings in flying motion. It grashed its teeth to make them keen, then was after me with intentions mean. I was far from being to death resigned so a more fleet man would be hard to find. I heard the beating of leathery wings as my flight disturbed some chipalings. The chipalings took flight with graxious grunts. They don’t like being around when the shebbit hunts. The shebbit treated them as tasty snacks and they died emitting forlorn kvacks. These hors de oeuvres slowed the monster’s flight and when it finished gastricating I was out of sight but I heard it bvorking in viscous frustration and skeech for its fellows to join in formation. Then I thumped into a maiden all scrumshis and plink. She did not see the shebbit, she was far gone in drink, but her form and her face seemed gleeshus to me and glandulous reactions inspired bravery. The shebbit dived down at this plinksome maid but she blinded by liquor was quite unafraid. Now a girl in a shebbit is no use to me, so I quikky up rooted a prickler tree. I charged toward the conjunction of shebbit and maid, crying, “Dodge it my sweeshus while I come to your aid.” The maiden looked up and belched in surprise on seeing hungerous madness in the shebbit’s eyes. She duckled and dodgelled in abject terror for the sight of the shebbit filled her with herror. “Oh help me,” she cried, “I’m having deetees, chase this creesher away, I’m asking you please.” The shebbit back fired and the squench was horrific, so I shoved up its pipe my thorn tree specific. The shebbit it skleemed in pain and in grage but from that prickly tree it could not disengage. Now a shebbit plus tree can no longer fly and a hugus psoripod came blumbering by. It swallowed the shebbit in one mighty gulp and chewed the thorn tree up into a pulp. The gleeshus maiden fell into my arms, murming, “My hero,” as I, eyed all her charms. Now the rest of this story takes a common course After bed, then marriage, we had a divorce