hubbubed and murmured throughout
the eight-week-long
gestation period of the
eldritch horror lurking within
her accursed womb, until
a squirrel distracted them.
They went to McDonald’s.
The menu: burnt spleens
Without onions, as they
are out of season.
Nancy watched the squirrel
and licked her lips.
The squirrel lunged for
the napkins, but they
Were in front of
a shotgun barrel aimed
at Tucker Carlson’s retreating
gonads.
“BOOM!” went the
shotgun, discharging its near-lethal
but fatal load into