ZomBBQ

HIM: Are…Are you all right, Elaine?

HER: Yes, Roger, everything’s fine now. While you were unconscious I talked it over with the zombies, and they’ve agreed to eat you instead of me, because better you than me.

HIM: What! But…I thought you loved me!

HER: And so will they, especially with this zesty dry rub I’ve applied to your breast and thighs.

A Succession of Flesh

A short story. Of flesh. For flesh. And by flesh.

It was the summer they left their homes and families and made the long, perilous journey to...

Why, you may ask? Because they had a dream. A dream of attending the Flesh Villagers' ancient and traditional...

...for five days and four fabulous nights! Double occupancy! All Inclusive! No Tipping!

Well...just the tip.

Note: the Flesh Fiesta is BYON (Bring Your Own Nipples)

And why did dreams of the Flesh Fiesta haunt them so? Because they were...

...and for seekers such as they, there was nothing fleshier. When they arrived, however, they discovered the Flesh Villagers didn't take American Express, so...

Unfortunately...

...which naturally led to hyperinflation and an unfavorable exchange rate, so it cost them like an entire 10-pound bag of liposuctioned fat tissue to buy one lousy Diet Coke.

Join us next week for another exciting chapter of Adventures in Adipose!

By the Wondrous Wands of Watoomb!

HIM: I am Dr. Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts!

HER: Oh, sorry, wrong door. I'm looking for the podiatrist's office.

MAN: He's in Suite 204. (HANDS CRACKLING WITH ELECTRICITY) I call upon the Ruby Rings of Raggadorr to heal this woman’s unsightly Plantar Wart! 

[KRA-KA-THOOM!] 

HER: Oh. Hey, thanks! Do you validate?