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The fell moons rise, and in their cold glare emerges a parcel from the dirt. Bloat and gangrene, crimped as if by tourniquet. A dark promise wriggles within. Grip the fibrous handles, feel its jagged soul imprint upon your palm. Now pull! Rend the sinew, tear muscle from bone, hatch their fetid gift! The yoke draws near! Take up the slip and read the words upon its face.
Time to enjoy your lovely joke!
Q: What’s the best news you can hear after a trip to the vet?
A: Animal Well
This article was originally published by Rockpapershotgun.com. Read the original article here.