"Boy, that sure is creepy," said Kermit.
"Yea," remarked Buttmarten, "one percertain might griddle up verily a breakfast amageddon with that thing. The question is: how are we going to get inside?"
"THE ANSWER IS: GO FUCK YOURSELVES!!!" cried the booming voice of McFoolery over the P.A. "And as proof of that lemma, enjoy a holograph of my ass!" And there over the fortress appeared a butt, half a light year high.
"I'm not enjoying that very much at all," commented Kermit.
"Well then, enjoy THIS!" cried Screwtoons, and the ass let forth such a volley of flatulence that the adventurers were blasted back several miles through space.
"Well bury my heart and spank me over your wounded knee," ejaculated Buttmarten. "It looks like he's turning on the Refrigerator-Magnetic Force Shields."
"Beeb boop," said R2D2-With-A-Boner, trying to fuck a passing O.
Screwtoons farted out "Taps," and laughed.
"There's only one thing that could possibly get us through such a defense," remarked Kermit.
"And what praytell might that be?" said Barton Buttmarten, pulling his ozymandius tight to ward off the cold of space.
"A dinosaur," explained Kermit.
"And where praychance by tell, might we come upon a dinosaur in the vast and most forboding regions of the galaxy?" asked Barton.
"Hey guys, what's going on?" said Buddy the Brontosaurus, who just happened to be walking by. "Nice day, huh?"
"A nice day for waffles," said Barton, and next thing you know, Buddy the Brontosaurus had opened up the back door of the fortress and they were all inside.
They found themselves in the dungeons, where Screwtoons kept his victims and performed his vile medical experiments - monsters that should not live and things too vile to be named. Somewhere in here were the triplets' filched orifices.
Kermit looked through the bars of one of the cells and laid eyes upon a dread diarrhea elemental. "Pass the Immodium AD. That's just sick." Passing down the flagstone corridors, they looked in on many an abhorrent and unnatural thing - a creature that looked like a large worm but was just a living rectum, reanimated roadkill ... In one cell, they saw Michael Jackson and his clone, Ronald McDonald taking turns pretending to be the eight-year old.
Finally, when they thought things could get no more file, the party turned a corner and found themselves face to face with something that made them all freeze in terror: it was Jennifer Anniston.
"First Brad runs off with that bitch, and I have to schlep up with that Vince Vaughn douchbad because no one will put up with me and he's cheating on me anyway and they're off making movies that everyone wants to see while meanwhile Vince and I can't make a film to save our lives and everyone's gonna know that I couldn't hack it except as some dumb broad on television." Jennifer began to cry.
"Don't you worry, miss," said Barton Buttmarten. "I think I can help you out."
"Can you," Jennifer asked, and Buttmarten whispered in her ear. The girl's face brightened.
"Just remember," added Barton handing her a razor blade, "down the street, not across the road. Crossing the road is for chickens."
Ms. Anniston sat down and quickly opened up both of her wrists. Blood began to pool around her and she grew pale. "I'm beginning to feel better already," she said.
"I think we all are, ma'am," said Kermit. "I think we all are."
But Jennifer Aniston was not the last horror that our intrepid adventurers would face that day, for as they progressed ever inward they began to smell something foul and overpowering, like dead things on the beach.
"Bile and begonias," ejaculated Buttmarten. "This smell reminds me of when I was a lad and accidentally left a bunch of dead mermaids in the closet."
"It sure is smelly," commented Buddy the Brontosaurus. "I think our friend needs some Glade Plug-Ins."
"I doubt he's our friend," said Kermit, "and besides, this is no time for product endorsement."
Just then, they came upon the source of the putrid odor - a wide crevace oozing with greenish-yellow pus.
Crap and chrysantemums," cried Barton Buttmarten. "Screwtoons has supersized the vagina of Paris Hilton. All of a sudden a chitinous pincered creature pulled itself from the depths and stared at them with its compound eyes.
"Ew, gross," exclaimed Buddy the Brontosaurus, scrunching his eyes shut and trying to step on it. "I hate bugs. Bugs are so gross. Did you know that if you have just one bug that in a month, you'll have ten thousand bugs. You don't even need two bugs to reproduce because bugs are born pregnant. Just like Mormons."
The gargantuan pubic louse lunged at Kermit, but R2D2-With-A-Boner was too fast, and blasted it with a laser then wheeled over to it and tried to fuck the carapace.
"Nay my metal friend," cried Barton, "do you not smell that succulent aroma that you have fried up for us. The flesh of an insect is quite like that of a lobster or crayfish. Please alow me to conjure up for us a delicious crab bisque."
While Barton Buttmarten worked his culinary magic, the rest of the crew guarded the meal from the shitbirds who had appeared at the scent, throwing stones at the fecal creatures to keep them at bay.
"Poop is gross," commented Buddy the Brontosaurus. "I wish dinosaurs didn't have to poop."
"I wish you'd drop a Jurrassic dump on these stool pigeons," said Kermit.
But shitbirds or no, the feast was soon done, and the flesh of the enormous crab louse was indeed flaky and delicious.
Enheartened, the crew set off towards the center of the Waffle-Iron Fortress, where they saw a number of caged and shackled oddities, including the heretofore-considered-apocryphal Bill Cosby-With-A-Vagina.
Kermit looked sheepish. "Can you guys hold on a sec, I just want to peek in there at ole Bill." The gangly blue guy slipped into the cell, and soon there followed a vile gobbling noise.
"What's going on in there?" asked Buddy the Brontosaurus. "It sounds like Kermit is turning Bill Cosby-With-A-Vagina into a chicken."
"Mayhaps more a chicken-head," Barton commented.
"Beebeebeep," R2D2-With-A-Boner tittered, but Buddy the Brontosaurus looked confused.
Kermit slipped out of the pen, a trail of beige slime encrusted down his leg. He cleared his throat. "Sorry about that boys. I uh, you know I was a big fan of The Cosby-With-A-Boner Show growing up, so I ah, figured maybe I'd get his autograph. You know how it is."
Indeed, they knew, and not even Buddy the Brontosaurus asked to see the signature. Anyway, they were very near victory, and the center of Screwtoons McFoolery's lair.
The last cell they looked in appeared to be empty, when suddenly a red-clad figure dropped from the ceiling. It was Spiderman ... but he had the most luscious lips one could ever imagine. And a tight pink pussy!
"The missing orifices," ejaculated Buttmarten.
"C'mon," called Kermit. "You got an anus there, too? We've got a villain to catch."
"Indeed, I do have an anus," commented Spidey. "Finally. Don't tell me you're going to take it away just now that I'm free to use it."
Barton Buttmarten watched the webslinger bend over for R2D2-With-A-Boner. "Murgatroyd, no!" exclaimed the gourmand. "Those bimbos were total twats, and anyway they look far more fetching on you, Spidey."
"Great! Then I'll show you the way to Screwtoons's chambers."
When the five of them rushed in, though, it seemed as if Screwtoons had been waiting for them all along. For all his sinister ways, he had a jolly and robust look to him, augmented by the bushy white beard and bright blue fur-lined coat and pants.
"I know who you are," said Buddy, "you're Santa Claus's evil twin."
"Right you are," laughed Screwtoons. "And you might have got the best of me this time, but rest assured - you haven't seen the last of me!" He pushed a button opening the roof to the sky, and revealing his mahogany desk to be the helm of a great sleigh. "Ghosts! We must away!"
And with that, four round colorful moon ghosts swept into the room, hitched up to McFoolery's sleigh, and pulled towards the sky. R2D2-With-A-Boner's lasers and Spiderman's webs ricocheted harmlessly off it.
"On Inky and Blinky, on Pinky and Clyde," called out Screwtoons McFoolery as they rose beyond the dome of the Waffle-Iron Fortress. "A Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Go Fuck Yourself."
With that he tossed the party a parting gift. Barton picked it up and unwrapped it. It was a jack-in-the-box. When he wound it up, music played and a butt came out. There was a note between the cheeks.
"If you thought snatching snatches was a true abomination/ When you see what comes next, you'll really piddle your pants./ So if you want to come stop me consider this riddle your chance./ My aim starts with a C, and ends with 'osmic Domination."
"What could he possibly mean by that?" asked Buddy the Brontosaurus.
"I haven't the foggiest," said Barton Buttmarten, "but it looks like the ass-in-th-box triggered the fortress's self-destruct mechanism. We can figure out the rhyme later. Let's get out of here."
And in the distance, the the What-The-Hellhound howled.
(Next: find out what's been happening with Mickey Mouse and the Abominable Charlie Brown, and join them on their vacation to the pimp-ass country of Mackistan.)
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