A/N: Please excuse the absence of any real plot, character development, etc.... or even sense, for that matter. Truth be told, this story is just one giant, horrible pun. There’s really no point to it, except maybe for a chuckle or two. In any case, enjoy!

P.S. Warning: if you are in any way averse (although this is prose...) to disgustingly putrid puns, (see previous phrase in brackets for an example) turn back now.

While walking down a path (one that veered wildly throughout the forest, occasionally doubling back on itself – this path was psycho!) Mike encountered a strange-looking man wearing a shirt, shoes, no socks and an odd pair of short pants with words printed on them. What the...? thought he, craning his neck to read the words. At this, a tall bird hopped over to him and began pecking at his neck. “Hey! What are you doing?!” Mike cried.

“You started it! Mocking me like that...” the crane muttered some obscenities under his breath and stalked (a short distance) away on suspiciously green legs.

Mike shrugged, and again attempted to read the man’s unusual apparel as the stranger struck up a conversation with the bird. What did the German egg say when it fell over?...Ei! Mike almost groaned aloud. “Say, what’s the deal with your pants? And the bad jokes?”

“Well,” the man replied with Australian accent, “I just look at my pants whenever I feel down. They’re pungarees, you see.”

Mike resisted the urge to hold his nose and flea screaming into the knight that was galloping up the pathway, but just barely. At once, he felt his body elongating and growing bizarrely, his fingernails thickening and sharpening, and hair sprouting where it shouldn’t be. His attempts to speak only resulted in a low, guttural growl as the Australian looked on in horror. “Augh!” he cried.

“Aiii!” he screamed.

“What kind of girly scream was that?” the crane sniffed with contempt.

“An aii!-scream, obviously,” explained the man before running off.

The knight clattered up to the duo as the commotion caught his attention. “Hey! Let go!” he exclaimed.

“Sorry,” the commotion muttered half-heartedly, before tragically expiring from blood loss.

Clearing his throat, the knight tried to stop choking. When he succeeded, he cried imperiously, “Aha! I shall stop you, unholy creature!”

“Barely,” snickered the crane as he munched on a chocolate bar.

The knight’s eyes narrowed in anger. He let out an incoherent cry and shouted, “I am Sir Loin, defender of the week, and hopefully of the month if I make another kill! So, I have to kill you,” he menaced.

“Ha ha!” the knight yelled victoriously as he brandished a stick with a pointy thing on one end and waved it about furiously, advancing on Mike, who tried not to laugh too hard.

“What?” Sir Loin demanded as he bounded towards them. “You aren’t scared?” They shook their heads in amusement. “Not even a little bit?” His voice was doubtful. “You’re not impressed by this mighty SWAP TOOE (Stick With a Pointy Thing On One End) that I am waving about like mad, regardless of the fact that it is the most famous SWAP TOOE of its kind.... ever?” The knight asked incredulously.

“Um... nope.” The crane grinned. (Yes, cranes can grin.)

“Oh,” sighed Sir Loin sadly, and began hobbling away, defeeted.

“Well, I suppose we should try and see what else is on this psycho path,” the crane said wryly as a bunch of bread loafed lazily along, murmuring “We’ll rise to the occasion!” or something equally crummy.

*

Presently, the duo arrived at a small town. Remarkably, no one remarked on their odd appearance, so they continued down the main – actually, the only – street. (No, it’s not Scumburg, for those who know what I’m referring to. :) Mike decided to go into an interesting-looking store with a worn sign hanging above the doorway (which was worn by a giraffe, of course) that read Moe’s Art. He entered – and was astonished at the soothing beauty of the classical music playing softly in the background. A man was cleaning the counter.

“Are you Moe?” asked Mike, trying to enunciate.

“Yep,” the man replied.

“Your store surely must be the most wonderful in town!” Mike exclaimed, rapt.

“Hey, you know I’m Moe. Don’t call me Shirley.” Obviously irritated, the man spoke sharply.

“Ow! Sorry, Moe. I was wondering... what’s that music playing?”

“Oh, just a little night music.”

Mike glanced in confusion out the window, where the sun shone brightly. He decided to leave the store, as Moe was beginning to unnerve him. “Nice meeting you, Moe,” he called, trying to put back his nerves.

He walked out of the shop, when he heard some haunting music. Mike waved the ghost away. He heard an extraordinarily catchy song playing, and tried to find the source of the infectious melodies. He saw the crane leaning down, close to the ground and listening intently. Mike lumbered closer, kicking logs out of the way, until he reached the spot the crane was staring at. “Shhh!” the bird hissed.

Mike saw a group of small insects on the ground, and then heard the music more clearly.... Jai guru deva om.... they sang. Ah! It was the Beetles. A dog nearby was echoing the song and leaning precariously to one side – it was a wonder he didn’t fall as he smoked a cigarette. Mike listened for a while, and decided he liked the dog with a brightly coloured silk scarf draped around its neck. ‘What’s your name?” He asked when the song finished.

“Rrufus Wainleft,” the mutt lisped enticingly.

Hmm. What a strange name! Mike thanked Rufus politely, and he and the crane continued on their way. “By the way, what is your name?” Mike was curious.

“Oh, it’s Ichabod. But you can call me Ichy. Or Boddy. Or hey, why not Icky Body?” The crane was obviously bitter, which was good because Mike was growing hungry and was still a bear. Still, he was tempted. “Let’s get something to eat,” he suggested.

Ichabod was muttering about headless horsemen and pianos, so Mike guided him in the general direction of an eating establishment.

That’s it for now! If you liked this, let me know. I’ll try and post another chapter if the response is favourable. Thanks for reading!