Thursday, December 6, 2007
The Unicorn Says
There once was a unicorn on a hill. It stood boldly, its feet planted in plush fields of grass and daisies, with cascades of orange sunlight filtering through the foliage like amber shafts of nutrigrain.
The Unicorn stops. Sniffs the air.
And The Unicorn says, “I smell douche.”
The Unicorn shakes its soft white hair and neighs quietly. Nervously.
Because the Unicorn knows that two leathered up douchebags are pawing a Stripper Hott in a greasy sandwich formation.
And the Unicorn knows that many a woodland creature will suffer as a result.
