by Greggor V. Püchaps
Her name was Moana. Lord knows why her mother named her that! That baby cried all day long! And night, too. When Moana was just a young baby, and her mother put her to bed wearing her favorite thong (yes, even babies wear thongs!) Moana would just begin to start moaning and not stop until the sun came up!
And each lover she’s had henceforth have all called her Moana. The name still applies. Moana of the jungle. Now she has her own bar named after her, and calls it “Moana of the Jungle”. Now entering her prime at the age of 48, Moana is quite content with herself. She glanced at herself in the mirror, reveiling her lithe frame at 247 pounds (“Not too flabby if I do say so myself!”), her curley greenish hair and huge boobs. She flushed the BM pot, watching all her money go down the drain -- “I wish food wasn’t so expensive! It just goes down the drain,” Moana thought to herself as she helped herself to one of the complimentary birdseed cookies that lay right on top of the toilet. She sat for a moment on the BM pot, which was designed to look like a pot of honey because Moana held strongly to the belief that her BM was as sweet as honey!
“Oops, forgot to wash my hands off” she said after noticing a little something that wasn’t there before on her cookie. She quickly raced to the shower, where she jauntily pulled on a rope which somehow tipped a large bucket of water over her, soaking her through and through! Her dyed green hair, the color of bile found in a common sewer was matted down to her face, showing off her oddly shaped skull that looks much like a banana cut in half. She tried desperately every day to make sure her hair was as poofy as possible, putting many products into her hair. She often had to scour the trash to find things to make it big as Alabama -- rat poison, peanut butter, spray cheese, and even common poo poo!
Despite these attempts, her hair was now matted and nasty looking. She went over to put some body lotion on...her favorite, called “Stank of the Jungle”. She was so famous that someone even made a scent just for her, manufactured in the labrotory to smell like her distinctive scent. Cod liver oil, rotting meat, rat poison, and sulfer all made to smell like her sordid past. Her distinctive smell. The smell of a story!
“Oh my gosh, it’s almost time for me to go on!” shouted Moana as she glanced around her small dressing room. The place was a mess. On her dressing table were piles of MacDonalds trash and other garbage. A small rat chewed on a limp french fry and quickly left a lil brown speck in response to the yummy taste. She turned her head to the otehr corner, were there were piles of used, nasty thongs. A sign above them said “Smell at your own risk!” Moana sighed, and found a stray piece of paper and tore it into the shape of a V. She found a bottle of spray glue and then sprayed it completely down and then attached it to her “area’”. After this quick manuever, she found some crumpled Canadian bills on the ground. “Well, these are almost useless so I might as well wear them!”
She found a stick of butter and rubbed it onto the bills and then placed them on her ta tas. “Wow, this is a super outfit!” She said, sighly slightly at the sight of her sagging “Sa Sa’s” as she liked to call her breasts. She spun around, and then quickly realized what was missing! Her shoes!! She jogged outside her dressing room and opened the back door and found herself by a construction site. She quickly grabbed two pieces of cardboard and found some super glue laying in the rubble and glue them onto her heel. Several construction workers, arriving at work at 5:30 in the morning cackled among themselves upon seeing such a tragedy - on cardboard! One man, named Chester, raced to Moana trying to feel up the morbidly obsese and stinky woman. She didn’t mind for a few minutes, but the stench of alcohol on his breath quickly made her wet like a noodle. She thew him onto the ground and ripped a hole in the paper guarding her “hehe haha” as it had been named by her peers. She put her hands on his male breasts, and looked him straight in the eye and flipped her soggy, wet green hair back.
Upon closer inspection of her acne covered face, shaved off eyebrows and thin, twisted lips, even the effect of alcohol didn’t hide her ugliness for Chester the Construction Worker. He struggled to get up, but she kept him down -- down to the ground. “This is just a warning. Never abuse a woman!”
She spread her legs and pulled a knife out of her crotch and cut his pants open and forced herself onto him. She felt his member grow stiff at the excitement, but then quickly became flacid agian. However, she rode him until she started gushing her love juice, that looks quite similar to yogurt. Brown yogurt, you know. With raisans. She bent down to kiss him, the stench of her breath permeating the air around them. The smell of all her previous meals, sardines, crackers, tuna, peanut butter, all rushed around him, making him pass out.
“It’s time to go on, now!” She excitely scratched her nasty green hair with her short, stubby dirt caked fingernails. A small bug crawled from her nose to her hand, and she exlaimed “Oh, my FAVORITE BUG!! Now cum with me and we can do our show together!”
She ran back inside, and crawled through a small door about the size alloted for a medium size dog and continued crawling onto a tiny stage in a pitch black room. She shuddered for a minute, realizing what was to come. A single light lit up on her, huddling in the corner as a small rat ran across her foot.
“PRESENTING....MOANA OF THE JUNGLE!” She skittered like a crab across the stage and then stood to her full height of 5’1, her tiny seran wrap outfit showing off all the details.
"Oh, how I love my life," whispered Mona to herself with a grin, and she slowly gyrated to the music that was playing.
TO BE CONTINUED!!
