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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Nonsense · #2269934
Nonsense for The Whatever Contest

When them alladiles and crocogators weren't achomping away at each other's hides and go seeking a ways and means committee, they occupied theyselves with more important work. The alladiles diled up the pressure on the universal star cooker. The crocogators toiled away at darker work. They propagated and crocogated all the corn, rye, millet, barley, oats, quinoa and quadrotriticale, and the corrupted strains of valerian, wormwood, lemonbalm, Mandrake, mint, Low John the Conquerer, Sassafras, High John the Conquerer, henbane, wolfsbane, Belladonna and Jimson weed that made up the baneful herb mixture that old Herr Koch used to animate that old Wurst, and to flavor his special recipe for El Schnapps del Diablito that he distilled from said aforementioned grains. He used this dark, potent and delectable distillate to contribute to the
delinquency of every minor that he could tempt into tasting it, and corrugating they soles well into adulthood and beyond, leaving them naked and miserable and roasting under the Midnight Sun, though how in the Heck they got to Norway remains an arcane and darkly deep secret unknown to mortal kin.

One lad of extraordinary moral fortitude (when his momma told him not to go to the party, he actually listened) was hired by the Old Ladies' Temperance League to bust up all the stills in "Dismal Creek. He finally got to Old Herr Koch's place. The terribly tasty and malodorous elixir tempted his taste buds to no end. Would this be the end of young Will? He fell to the temptation. My what a complex and interestingly ungodly combination of flavors. He drank a couple of gallons, but his moral fortitude was such that after he vibrated and shook and puked and suffered through a month of Sundays long hangover he never touched another drap. The still didn't get busted, but young Will didn't end up corrugated like all the rest.
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