Saturday, December 31, 2011

A Fine Thorny Mess

Thornson Throckmorton raised his hand ready to smack the side of his hospital bed. TT, or Thorny as his off kilter pard called him, cursed under his breath. Of all the dumb lame assed things to happen, he wished he had listened to his gut better than he did.

He tugged at the sheet covering him trying to get more of his lower half covered. Too Toxic and a giggle ran through his mind. Crap one of his fellow felines decided to make contact. How lovely! The weekend of his high school class reunion and he laid here in this blasted bed with his little bits as Nana called them hanging out catching every draft that wafted under the sheet. Fucking hospital gowns didn’t cover much and with his six-foot-two torso, even extra-large didn’t come close either. And his junior year nickname called out by his former soccer teammates. . .Too Toxic was another lifetime ago. One of his nine lives he preferred to not remember.

“You had to wax your snowboard and try Suicide run. What an ass!” TT looked around the room. Who could hear him in a private room? His mental companion and maybe a nurse if one even bothered to check on him. The last one that had he had growled and hissed at. She fled stating he must be looped on the pain meds the prior shift had given him.

He cocked his head toward the open door. He caught bits and pieces of the conversation going on at the nurses’ station slightly down the hall.

“Yes, he is due for another x-ray in an hour. Re-cast his leg up to his thigh? I’m sure we can find someone on duty to assist with that. Up his pain meds? Certainly doctor.”

Oh flying cat shit! Litter box from hell happening! Up his pain meds? And no food to go with them? Hell, he was so horny his dreams set his cock and libido on fire. With his leg hoisted in the air and this blasted draft, how was a guy to deal with getting some relief. He’d asked for a blanket and got told that his leg needed to be unencumbered for the sling. Where the hell was his personal vet? So what if he charged double for hospital calls? The dude had license to practice on animals and humans. This human hospital stunk. TT wanted a shifter hospital and soon.

“Right give me more screw with my brain drugs. Rate things are going and I will have to morph my lower half to keep warm. I will scare any help away with that.” TT groaned as he tried to sit up more in the bed.

“Psst, Too Toxic,” a voice muttered. TT looked up. His old college roommate, Tomas, stood in the door. “I send you on a scouting mission and this is where you end up?”

“Look you scrawny piece of tomcat get your arse in here and get me out of here.” TT sneered and scowled. “And close that door behind you, please.”

Tomas grinned hoping he didn’t burst out laughing. Poor Thorn as he preferred to be called wasn’t weathering his indignation well. Tomas could smell his male pheromones all the way down to the hall to the elevator and men were not on either of their radars. Poor tomcat was on fire and needed dousing soon.

Closing the door behind him, Tomas sauntered across the room. The lower forty-eight states were having a mild winter compared to Anchorage. He missed Tongson, Octavia, and the triplets. Even though they communicated frequently, their physical presence was sorely missed. The comfort and relaxation family permitted made up the difference. Still they had a war to wage and a power hungry control freak to dethrone. Khan’s decision to up the ante and take out a mother and babe raised the bar on needing to take him out.

“Thorn, I can’t say I blame you for taking time to relax. But like this?” Tomas waved his hand over Thorn’s leg. “A bit much on the dramatics, eh?”

“Oh shut up,” Thorn spat out. “I wish I could say I was paying attention but when a cute thing in red tight ski pants crosses your run, well what would you do?”

Tomas tossed back his head and burst out laughing. “I’d look and appreciate. Though I am sure Octavia would grouse at me for not paying attention to where I was going too.”

Thorn smiled and patted the mattress. “Have a seat or pull up a chair. We got a few until they decide to shoot me full of more human drugs. Man can those mess with a tabby’s mind!”

Tomas dragged a chair across the floor and straddled it. Before dropping into it, he sniffed the air. “Can you turn your Too Toxic persona down a few? Your pheromones are kicking ass if any receptive females are around.”

“Too Toxic hung up his tom catting ways two decades ago. Since college, I’ve been doing no more than two to three females at once thank you.” Thorn’s Cheshire cat grin was infectious. Tomas couldn’t help snickering. He motioned for Thorn to continue.

“TT aka Thorny heads up his own harem mixture now thank you. With a few stray males thrown in for balance to keep the females happy when I’m busy otherwise.” Thorn fold his arms across his chest and smiled what Tomas suspected was his self-satisfied smirk.

“Well your highness, care to enlighten your liege lord on what is going down in Talbot’s Peak? I did send you there on a reconnaissance mission. Not a fucking mission.”

Thorn gulped and tugged at the sheet hoping his dangling bits didn’t freeze as another burst of cold air filtered through the room and not from the overhead duct.


Happy New Year Everyone! Be safe and sane! Don't drink and drive! Keep you and your loved ones safe!


Friday, December 30, 2011

Lola Longing, The Stardust Supperclub and a Stanky Wolf - (Not So) Little Johnny Strikes Again

“Shhh…”  John Lytle waved at the loud group of teens behind him.  Hell’s own licker, couldn’t the flea bait shut up for two damn minutes?

“Johnny, I don’t think this is a very good idea.”

Lola Longing, such a miss-named cat, never thought anything was a good idea.  Her folks should have tagged her with whiney priss, worry wart or buzz kill, yeah buzz kill would have been the best.  Every time their group set out for some fun, Lola got a tick in her ear the size of that ugly dog bowl fountain in the town square and tried to convince them to do something else…like bowling or the movies, blah. 

John wanted more than blah; he wanted thrills, chills and sex.  Gah, he wanted sex and even though she was feline and he canine, he wanted it with Lola.  Inexplicably, she filled his thoughts.  He’s always thought that with a few damn good shags he could make her worthy of her name and then she would be out of his system.  Thus, he’d brought her along on tonight’s adventure into the as yet unopened supperclub Dante had built into the pleasure club.

“Lo, you don’t think anything is a good idea, but trust me…this you will love.”  Johnny leaned down into her face and gazed into her sultry kitten eyes.  “Now shut up, will ya.”
He twisted back into position, ignoring the gasp and whimper of the beauty below.  If Lola had a claim to fame, beyond the buzz kill thing, it was her eyes.  They were forest green, with golden sparkles and small specks of chocolate brown.  They tilted ever so slightly at the outsides and had the telltale oblong shape of her cat.  She passed for human, unless you were a shifter…then she gave herself away, everyone knew her designation just by catching her eye.

The guard at the mouth of the cave that led to the back stairs inside the pleasure club was a buck.  He was ornery with a side of dumb, a winning combination in Johnny’s book and he was bored.  You could see it in his stance.  He was fascinated with his nails and ignoring everything around him.

“Markus, have you got the bait ready?”  Johnny’s friend was a beta bitch in every way possible.  He took direction, followed orders to a tee and was even a little bit in love with John, though he’d never say so.  There wasn’t a better man on the team of an up-and-coming alpha like himself.

“Sure do Johnny.”  Markus lifted the bag, high above his head and snickered as the thing moved around like a pissed off snake. 
“Take that thing over to the end of the incline and spray this, liberally, into the hole.  Then unzip it and let that thing out into the woods.  And for fucks sake, don’t get any on you or your staying outside.”

“Sure thing, man.”

Johnny watched the bag move, he watched Markus fiddle with the small bottle and he knew the oaf would be waiting outside.  Thank goodness there was only a squirrel in the bag; fricking snakes gave him the willies and a pissed off one would be beyond stupid to tangle with.

“Lo, come here, baby.”  He pulled Lola off to the side and watched the rest of the group move far away from Markus.

Three things happened at once.  The cap came off the bottle held by the oaf, the squirrel made a dash for freedom and Markus squirted doe piss all over his clothes.  The stink was atrocious and the look of panic on the beta bitches face was hysterical.

Johnny looked over at the suddenly eager guard and knew time was running short.  “You best run, Markus,” he laughed.  “And, may the Lupa force be with you!”

The stanky wolf man beat hell out of the area with a horny buck hot on his heels.  He wondered how long it would take Markus to remember that a wolf could take down a deer any day of the week…even a beta.

“Come on, Lo, let’s go get our dance on,” Johnny whispered, happy that he remembered to bring his favorite CD.  “Have you ever done the Horizontal Bop?”


May you stay safe, silly and electric sliding on into 2012!

Happy New Year!


Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Dante's Midnight Stardust Supperclub

Happy New Year howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Truth to tell after the mayhem sort of day I experienced yesterday, I wasn't certain I could write a post for today's blog. However, once all had finally calmed down, inspiration struck like a small lightning bolt, and Dante, my werewolf hero, came through telling me about his latest and greatest addition to the Pleasure Club. The grand opening is, of course, on New Year's Eve.

Dante's Midnight Stardust Supperclub

"Only my beautiful Kitty is missing," Dante growled low and quiet out of habit, even though he was alone. Everyone else had left after putting the finishing touches on the newest addition to the Pleasure Club, the Midnight Stardust Supperclub.

For long moments, Dante imagined his lovely catwoman, Kitty, dressed in an elegant slinky gown, dancing in his arms. He whirled them over the smooth-as-glass ballroom floor -- over the rainbow shades of pearl in time to the sophisticated swinging music of a big band.

When he'd first began sketching out the design for the supperclub, he'd had Kitty in mind with each stroke, and with each idea he'd written down. Of course, once he'd finalized the plans, and began to build, the Midnight Stardust had taken on a grand and resplendent life of its own.

Standing in the center of the dance floor, Dante gradually spun around, scanning the interior of the huge geodesic structure that glistened with a subtle, snow-white luminescence. His only regret had been the necessity of keeping the supperclub underground. He'd wanted the romance of dancing and dining beneath a canopy of sparkling stars in an inky sky.

However, more important had been keeping the Midnight Stardust away from prying military-industrial-complex eyes. While the HAARP Tesla technology in Alaska could detect many underground compounds, there were ways to disguise the frequency waves, keeping his complex hidden.

To compensate the domed ceiling had been created to look like a fanciful midnight sky. Specialized filtered lighting made it appear as if stardust fell from the celestial black heavens. Often he would envision Kitty in his arms and their passionate kisses as the diamond glints of light surrounded them.

Kitty. His Kitty cat girl. More and more each day he was ferociously tempted to send her a gown, and everything a woman would need to dress for an elegant evening, along with a plea that she celebrate New Year's Eve with him.

Close, he was so close to being able to protect her from his sire and the killing fangs of his werewolf mafia. Dante growled savagely for several minutes as he swept his gaze over the second tier of the supperclub, setup for dining, enjoying drinks and viewing the dancers, and the band.

On the suggestions of many others, Dante had also installed a whole array of movie-tech affects that included a dawn sky and also twilight. He'd foregone a bright full moon just in case there were some werefolk who would be adversely affected.

The entire supperclub, or only one section, could also be infused with a golden radiance or a silvery glow. Then there were the bubbles of light, as if the dancers were inside a glass of champagne. For grins, and because he'd seen delight in the eyes of his women staff members, he'd included fizzy pink champagne light.

Not only had his ever-growing staff painstakingly put together a long playlist of romantic, big band era music, they'd searched high and low for a suitable band, finally discovering a group of Immortals who quickly became enamored with the idea of playing together once again.

Yeah-grumbles, their price had been over the top, but Dante figured it was well worth it to make the New Year's Eve grand opening one to remember and treasure. Especially if... Kitty... his Kitty gorgeous in a beautiful gown that flowed over her sexy sweet curves... if... so far, he'd managed untraced calls to her, and his Kitty's advice in designing the interior of the Midnight Stardust had been invaluable.

Tortured with thoughts of his only love, Dante strode toward the supperclub's kitchen and winery. Hiring enough competent staff had been a real, chase-the-moon challenge, as had been the menu selections. After all, catering to the tastes of werewolves, humans, paranormals, and shapeshifters of every type, carnivore and herbivore, presented problems unknown in a strictly human establishment.

Dante swiped one hand through his waves of hair, pausing to take in the sight of the second tier tables all dressed in pristine white linen with golden taper candles inside a glass globe, waiting to be lit. He'd had one helluva of a time deciding on what scents to infuse the air with, eventually choosing to keep the air purified since the ladies would be wearing various fragrances and perfumes -- the men colognes. He'd also provided a large smoking room, separate from the rest of club, but splendid in its own right.

With the reservations pouring in, Dante figured he might break even. But that was the least of his concerns. It was getting the supperclub off on the right paw, a haven for those who enjoyed a sophisticated atmospheric night out.

To encourage patrons he'd hired several dance instructors for private or group lessons in ballroom dancing. He'd also made certain there would be gallant and gentlemanly dance partners for all the ladies who were unescorted. His Vampire friends, a special breed unlike Hollywood's version of the blood drinkers, had traveled from all over the world, especially willing to meet and dance with any available woman.

Dante grinned, recalling their palpable excitement as he'd told them about the Midnight Stardust. Of course, he'd promised them real blood wine, always a particularly good inducement, given their refined palates. As well, staying at the Pleasure Club and enjoying the amenities had worked its magic over them.

Having consulted Lamar about same-sex couples, Dante had made arrangements in that regard. Although, at this point, he didn't know how much interest there would be with all the other New Year's Eve celebrations happening around Talbot's Peak.

After a quick inspection of the kitchen and the food lockers simply to reassure himself, Dante poured a dark ale he favored into a tankard, then let the irresistible lure of his secure phone line to Kitty pull him in that direction. He had to tell her the wind machines she'd suggested for the four intimate balcony dancing areas, located on the third and top tier of the supperclub, provided a breezy and dreamy romancescape for couples in love, and falling in love.

Besides, he wanted find out what color she preferred most for an evening gown.

~ Have a Magickal and Shapeshifting New Year's Eve ~


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Monday, December 26, 2011

Merry's Christmas

A working horse and cattle ranch doesn’t stop working just because it’s Christmas. The stock doesn’t care if Santa’s coming; they still need to be fed, the stalls still need to be mucked out, and the million and one tasks that keep the ranch running still need to be done. Therefore, dawn on Christmas morning found Merry on horseback riding toward the upper pastures to make sure the Christmas eve snowfall hadn’t caused any hardship for the herds.

She gripped her mount’s mane and leaned across his neck to speak above the chilly winter wind into his ear. “We’ll take a look at the southwest first, then swing toward the top of the ridge. After we’ve checked on the cattle we can take a break at the line cabin, and I’ll call back to the office.”

Dash snorted to let her know he understood. He carried her himself; he refused to trust her safety to a normal horse. In his shifter form he was powerful and tireless, moreso than her regular mounts. If anything went wrong up here, he’d be right there to help out.

Of course, Merry considered through clenched teeth, riding a shifter did have its drawbacks. Dash wasn’t into bondage, so that meant no saddle or reins. He permitted a blanket to be strapped to his back for her comfort, but she had to hold onto his mane. The saddlebags carrying his clothes were tied just behind her. Since this sort of amounted to a backpack, his stallion’s pride allowed it.

At the first pasture they found the cattle bunched together and blowing steam from their nostrils. They appeared to have weathered the storm just fine. The ridge was clear of cattle. “They probably all headed downslope to get out of the wind,” Merry said, and Dash nodded agreement. “Head for the cabin. I’ll radio Race to haul up a couple of hay bales, just in case. I know he’s just itching to break out the Sno Cat. Kid loves it better than a horse.”

Dash muttered his low opinion of motorized vehicles and headed for the cabin.

At the little one-room line cabin Merry darted inside to fire up the woodstove, while Dash shifted and toweled the sweat and snow off his naked human body. By the time the snug little room had warmed, he was dressed and digging oatmeal and apples out of the saddlebags. “You have some too,” he ordered. “I know you skimped on breakfast.”

“I can eat any time. The cattle don’t always have that option.” Merry lifted the short-wave radio in its insulated case down from the cupboard. Cell phones were dicey out here in the cold, but the radio always got through. While Dash fixed their breakfast she contacted the ranch and reported the herd’s whereabouts and condition. “Race is on his way,” she said after she signed off. “I think he would have run the Sno Cat up here even if I hadn’t called in.”

“Waste of good hay. You know the deer are just gonna eat it.”

“Maybe some elk, too. I wouldn’t mind seeing elk on the range. Give the guests something to look at when we open up again in the spring.”

“What, the unicorn ain’t enough?”

“The unicorn’s retired. Guests with guns and high-powered scopes we don’t need.” Merry made sure to hug him to take the sting out of her order. “Maybe in the summer. We can have a Valentine’s Day in June or something.”

“Or,” Dash suggested with his big horsy grin, “we could have one right now.”

“You need your energy to get back down the mountain.”

“I got energy and then some. We’ll make it.”

“If not,” Merry teased, running her fingers through his thick mane, “maybe Race could give us a ride back on the Sno Cat.”

“You sure know how to wreck a man’s mood, woman.”

“I’m only thinking of you. You’ve been plowing through snow uphill all morning. Those big, strong muscles of yours need a br – ”

Dash jerked his head around, a split second before Merry’s less-keen human ears picked up a noise outside. It was a familiar enough sound, but had no business being here. The sound of hooves clomping through snow, and the snort and mutter of horses.

“You expecting company?” Dash said.

Unicorn hunters flashed through Merry’s mind. She reached for the rifle she always carried with her on her trips into the hills. Dash went unarmed, but only in his human shape. “Don’t shift just yet. Let’s see what we got first.”

She couldn’t see a thing through the heat-fogged windows. Dash slid the door open a crack, then flung it wide. “Well,” he said, amused. “Come say hi to the neighbors.”

Merry peered beyond his brawny shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat.

Only yards from the cabin door, a stocky paint stallion studied them warily, nostrils flared and ears tipped forward. He must have cut their trail, caught Dash’s scent and come to investigate. Merry glimpsed several more horses peeking back at them from the edge of the woods, mares and yearlings in their shaggy winter coats, blowing softly.

Merry clutched at Dash’s arm. “Are they … ?”

“Ain’t my kind,” he murmured back. “They’re the real deal.” He neighed a reassurance to the stallion. “Merry Christmas, cuz. I won’t come after your ladies.” He draped his arm around Merry. “Got my own.”

The paint shook his head while he puzzled over Dash’s semi-equine scent. Abruptly he snorted and whirled. His band galloped after him. They vanished over the rise.

Dash had to close the door; Merry was too stunned to move. Her eyes shown like a child’s on, well, on Christmas morning. “They’re back,” she breathed. “The mustangs. After all these years.”

“Word must’a got out about what a great range we got here. And under a unicorn’s protection and all.” He laughed briefly. “Bet I know where Race’s hay is going.”

“Wild horses on the ridge again. Just like when I was a girl.” She threw her arms around Dash’s neck and hugged him tight. “This is the best Christmas present ever.”

“Second best.” Dash tugged at the buttons on her blouse. “You’re about to get the best. Gotta warm you up again, now that we went and let all the heat out.”

Merry giggled and made no attempt to stop him. “What about breakfast?”

He laid her out on the grizzly skin in front of the woodstove. “It’ll keep.”

Sure enough, it did.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Merry Christmas Talbot's Peak Style

“I’m supposed to what?” Gil ground out through clenched teeth. His patience was wearing thin quickly and the last item he needed was a screwball request from Lamar. “Look snake breath, where do you get these---“

“I’d think twice about who is calling names nutsy. I saved your scrawny squirrel carcass more than once out in the woods. Even Jamie says you owe me.” Lamar looked over his reading glasses and stared straight at Gil. Gil gulped and forced himself to breathe.

“Look Gil,” Louie began. “We’re in this for the kids. Some of us use to believe in Santa. Some of us still attend religious rituals. A few kids right now need to know that believing in themselves is okay. So stop complaining.”

Gil rocked back on the chair he occupied. Louie had closed the diner early to allow a dress rehearsal of Lamar’s holiday pageant. His twelve howling days of Christmas was a hit at the old folk’s home and with the local schools. Humans and shifters alike filled the seats each night. The five bucks a head price brought out Talbot’s Peak’s finest. What surprised Gil was the amount of money that filled the buckets as they passed through the crowd night after night. Lamar knew a good thing. Problem was how did Gil convince them his morphing into a decent sized squirrel who could play the babe in the manager for their living nativity scene didn’t happen at the drop of a full moon? Thanks to his screwed up attempts at magic and his latest mess up trying to date a local witch who told him she would see hell freeze over before she made any move to assist him, he wasn’t sure what he’d shift into.

“I’d love to help the kids out. But Louie. . .” Gil gulped. Between Lamar’s snake-eyes stare and Louie’s I ain’t taking no shit glare, saying no was not an answer. Come full moon, Gil prayed as though he had faith that someone or something was listening to his deep plea to save his puny arse and soon. Some fool had turned up the volume on the diner’s television.

“That’s the local forecast. Clear and a full moon for the next three nights over Christmas here on the peak. Happy Howlidays everyone!”

“Now are you in or out?” Lamar’s emphasis on in told Gil he’d been drafted whether he actually agreed or not.

“Okay, I’m in. I can’t promise you a miracle. Remember I got me cursed and trying to correct it hasn’t yielded any control over my size and morphing when I want. Only the moon controls that.” There he’d said it. Let his secret out. Silence greeted him. Gil looked up, to his right and left.

Lamar’s glasses landed on the table as he leaned forward. Louie’s smile probably hid his laughter. So much for acceptance amongst true shifters. Gil scooted his chair back ready to bolt, his mind tallying up what he could shove in his car and still get out of town with his skin and fur intact.

“No problem according to the weatherman. Let’s talk about what you need to do in order to get this right.” Lamar motioned Louie toward him.

“Great, you had to open your mouth,” Gil muttered to himself. His voice muffled any external noise. Not that he’d hear much stashed in the diner’s windowless storeroom. Twenty-four hours in this dank dark, hellhole and he wondered who’d was crazier Louie or Lamar. Shit, he had to be since he agreed to this. If his sense of time was correct, the moon was reaching its zenith and full light right about now. Someone had to open the door for their hair brained idea to work. Getting him to the playhouse under wraps still remained to be done. No one was stuffing him in another cramped box like they’d tried last night.

“Come one Louie,” he began; pounding on what he thought was a door or maybe a wall. “Let me out.”

The door opened. Light flooded the room spilling on to him. Crap, moonlight! Moans and groans filled the air and bits of fur spattered the illuminated floor.

Gil heaved himself off the floor. He ran out the open door. He caught his reflection on the large freezer door near him. Double crap! He’d morphed. Great, he’d have to use plan two.

Twenty minutes later, Gil reached the playhouse. Thank powers that be, Louie had left his customized mini bike close by. And the racing leathers and helmet were in his locker.

Gil raced down the aisle leading to the stage. He jumped over the feet and legs of patrons squirming in their seats waiting for the pageant to start. Under the curtain and back stage, he ran looking for Marissa. She had his costume and props ready. “Hey Marissa over here,” Gil squeaked running up the table leg near her.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Talbot’s Peak’s Twelve Days of Christmas and our living crèche scene.” Lamar nodded and stepped to the side as the curtain rose.

“Look Mama, the baby in the manager is a squirrel.”


MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Be safe and sane! Keep your loves and spices close by!



Friday, December 23, 2011

Holiday Hmmmm...From the Desk of Ziva

Do you want to leave a little something for Santa under the tree this year?  Why not wrap it in candy canes…a sweet to entice both teeth and tongue.

Or, are Reindeer more to your liking?  Watch out for the horn.

Ziva clicked and paste, chuckling as she posted holiday outfits, Christmas Cheer and  (not so) Little Johnny’s take on the famed The Night Before Christmas.  Gah, but the cubs grew up fast in Talbot’s Peak.

She knew the poem would make Nick grumble and groan, but that, in fact, was why she posted some bit of silliness every year.  Nick needed to grumble and groan; to moan and growl and do all the good things that led up to releasing his alpha nature. 

Hopefully, all over her. 

With the holidays upon them, it has been far too long since either had found an acceptable release, but Ziva was out to change that…and this post to the G&B site was bound to be a start.

 ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the cave
Not a wee little creature stirred, none were that brave;
The stockings were chewed with the utmost of care,
In hopes of impressing the rest of the lair;
The cubs were all nestled in one great big pile,
While visions of kills were making them smile;
With my females coat now starting to nap,
I had just settled down for a long winters lap,
When out in the woods the beta’s did holler,
I sprang to all fours and whipped out a coller
Away to the entrance I loped with some speed
Remembering, thank goodness, to jump over cub pee.
The moon up above it called me by name
And whispered sweet nothings which were really quite tame,
When, what to my leery eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight yummy reindeer,
With a portly old driver, not lively or quick,
I wondered for a moment was this St. Nick?
More rapid than eagles but less speedy than pack,
 He whistled, and shouted, and lay whip down, hard upon their back;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the hills!  Above trees so massive!

Rise up your ass’ that are so excessively gas’ive”
As dry leaves did ignite, oooh, what a sight,
The fat bastard escaped without even a bite!

~better watch out little johnny, better not cry...Santa's hot on your ass and you know why!  Your friend, Z

Now, let me leave you with a Christmas Cheer to share with your herbivore friends this holiday?

·  1/2 shot Eggnog
·  1/2 shot Peppermint Schnapps

Stir it up and shoot it down. HO! HO! HO! You’ve got Christmas w/a piney twist.  **And to all you carnies out there, add a couple drops of red wine and think about the little critter you had before joining the party.**

Happy Holidays!