By The Toasty-Fried Co-Op
The next day, thousands of beavers converged happily upon Sweet Jimmy's cottage cheese. They tossed it into Sweet Jimmy's gaping grave and cheered! Then the beavers crossed over, too. This amazed no-one.
Max jumped out of the grave, cheese pouring from his every orifice!! "Obviously Breakstone's!" cried Max, licking cheese off his left hand.
The Sirens wailed at Max, "Sweey Jimmy loved you! He ate your beaver's cheese for fun and profit! You bastard! Now Sweet Jimmy lay beneath the beavers' remnants! If the Ministry of Cheese-Eaters doesn't churn your butter, stomp Sweet Jimmy's sweet curds until they ooze with horrible whey."
Later, as night grew cold, dark, and nasty; the gravesite was glowing with eerie, translucent foam beavers, wagging with their tails to Hell.
"Back!" shouted Sweet Jimmy's corpse, "You've gone too far! This cheese makes me confess indiscretions that I fantasized about!"
Max threw up his hands, happily shouting, "Foul beavers! You've come close, but Satan's favorite hunter lives on, to whit, survives the vicious death of mortal flesh!"
Sirens, like others, sang mournful dirges and danced.
"Aieeeee, Aieeeee, Aieeeee, ka-chu!"
The moral, withstanding all of the cheese, is surrendered hither. Keep your hands off beavers, buddy!
The End
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