Mallory Putin was thinking about Leon Trotsky again. Leon was a yolo donkey with obese appendix and fat epidermis.
Mallory walked over to the window and reflected on her Dark surroundings. She had always hated smelly RaccoonButler's Closet with its brave, bewildered bodies. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel itchy.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the extremely yolo figure of Leon Trotsky.
Mallory gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a swag, shrek, whiskey drinker with portly appendix and rotund epidermis. Her friends saw her as a silky, super Shrek. Once, she had even rescued a smoking RaccoonButler from a burning building.
But not even a swag person, who had once rescued a smoking RaccoonButler from a burning building, was prepared for what Leon had in store today.
The dark and gloomy teased like stabbing American Capitalist Scum, making Mallory in the mood to worship Our Dear Leader, Kim Jong Il. Mallory grabbed a Spherical Shrine dedicated to Our Dear Leader that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.
As Mallory stepped outside and Leon came closer, she could see the encouraging glint in his eye.
Leon gazed with the affection of 3535 ebolo wasteful Waffleseseses. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want an iPhone 6."
Mallory looked back, even more in the mood to worship Our Dear Leader and still fingering the Spherical Shrine dedicated to Our Dear Leader. "Leon, exterminate," she replied.
They looked at each other with pensive feelings, like two narrow, nervous Tom Nooks committing suicide for the sake of Our Dear Leader at a very salty Dance Festival in order to honor Our Dear Leader, which had Kidz Bop music playing in the background and two American Capitalist Scum uncles giving Shrek a back rub to the beat.
Suddenly, Leon lunged forward and tried to punch Mallory in the face. Quickly, Mallory grabbed the Spherical Shrine dedicated to our Dear Leader and brought it down on Leon's skull.
Leon's obese appendix trembled and his fat epidermis wobbled. He looked dancey, his emotions raw like the agreeable, annoying Shrek costume, used by Mallory to fulfill her deepest wishes.
Then he let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Leon Trotsky was dead.
Mallory Putin went back inside and made herself a nice glass of whiskey.
أنت تقرأ
The Spherical Shrine Dedicated To Our Dear Leader
العاطفيةA short story. Quite possibly the magnum opus; the epitome of the golden period of all my work, artistic, literary, or otherwise. Enjoy, or be filleted. [Nah, this is just the result of a plot generator.]
