A story to end all stories

Once upon a time in a land with a name that looked like Panty panty but was pronounced Brooklyn, there lived a boy called Homer, the term boy was used very loosely as he more resembled a wise cracking skunk. Oh how he loved to spend his days writing stories that just popped into his large yet overly small head, anything from potatoes to space badgers were icluded in his fantasmical stories. A clear lack of direction and chronology were evident in these stories but nontheless they were widely viewed.

On day while quilling his next masterpiece our fearless mongoose ( yes he's now a mongoose, I can do that) heard a gunshot outside his stately council flat, the sound cut through the air like a warm piece of toast cuts through a cold winter morning, our hero was scared...

Looking out of his window with a nervous stare he realised that there was indeed no danger as the wielder of the gun was none other than his chum-pall Malik, "Chuff, chuff choff." Said Malik as he rapped on the door much like a woodpecker raps on a plate of chips. Homer the goat leaped out of his beanbag and galloped as fast as his horse feet would take him to meet his part time lover, but that was his first and most deadliest mistake to date. As he opened the door he was greeted by not just malik but also a crowd of people who without seeking their permission he had incuded in his stories, and thus broke the image and likeness contracts Tetley had on his friends costing them £2.6 million in a lucrative sports deals with Nike. Each was armed with their weapon of choice, Malik a gun, Chris Duff a baseball bat, Sam with a Nurf gun, Laura a baking tray, Faye a mace, Tetley with guilt and Ruaridh with Hip.

Like a powerful panter in Ruaridh's nightmares they struck and knocked down our hero lobster. he was dead and they then proceeded to stuff his dead racoon body with the potatoes he was so fond of.

The End?