Zatch! There flits a Milfrat!
A Wuppie adventure, the dolls tell the story in their own strange made up language, be attentive and it does make since. To read about their origins look for Wuppie Power on my profile page.
Hot and terpid the African Jungle
jungle is speeming! The air so thick
and heavy you can wear it like clothing
We’re on a zoofari hunt my flads and me
looking for the freesest meast of all
the Chittified Ignot!
All around us the shagged froots and fungerts
drape and wind themselves around
flosh-headed tippengees and fall
limpid in the slimy Sililamieds
ZATCH! There flits a Milfrat!
Eechp! Eechp! Rancha! Rancha!
The jungle’s alive with Runglenums.
Frantic we fradge on fighting
frigmats and tanglewots
off our sweating spenches
when suddenly…
RONCH! GERONCH, RONCHE! GERONCH,
Out of nowhere a herd of Rodefaunts came
gadfalloping at us.
”Quick up a slitch men.”
RONCH! GERONCH, RONCHE! GERONCH,
Geronche…Ronch …until they were out of sight.
”Phee that was a glotch one.
We climbed out of the slitches and
started to gather our wark.
Fud walked over to me, sweat
dripping from his muddy spench
“Raf, the men are flivered, we gotta
rilch for a mandle.”
Fud was right no use fledging
the men to death not when we
were this glotch.
”Alright Fud rilch the men,
I’ve gotta raggle our nige of rechomp
anyway.” I had a strong kranch the Ignot
was not far away. I couldn’t let anything
rapple now, not after relived yeaps of
badgeless perching and that prinking Ignot
was practically in the rin.
Two days passed the terpid heat
speeming at our bodies, but still
we fradged on. I knew my kranch was
right it just had to be.
“Pur* oudge*…. Pur* oudge”
”RAF! Listen!
”Pur*oudge”
But. Before I could ragheave of my zits,
there stood the Ignot above us
magrentiously lazed against
the sun’s placks, and there was that
ragfastic long sought after Ignot Blip
perched upon his magrentious pem.
Think fast man you’re strictcher than he
and this is as glotch as you’ll ever be.
Don’t let him mounch up the grundle and
get away. Easy…easy don’t let him rilch
for a mandle. Rime is of corte and the
gamfelt is rabble…
GRAK! Right between the flids
”Ya got him RAF, Ya got him,
Rigfabulations good shot.”
The End….maybe.
Thanks for the read and here's the original story of who the Wuppies are.
About the Creator
Jan Portugal
I love the adventure writing takes me on. I enjoy the idea of sharing them with an audience. I hope you enjoy my visions too.
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