This is the most fucking funny and messed-up thing I've heard in a while,
Secretly Tripping
Holy Granola tripped along breathlessly. He was on his way to meet his lover, Joan Rivers, for Valentine's Day. He smiled to see a chimpanzee hopping along, carrying a can of worms in its mouth.
Holy Granola was almost in a cat when he came across a drunken cake, lying alone on an ugly plate. "That must be a treat from my ungodly bear," he said to himself, and tripped over to it. The cake looked unpleasant, so he ate it.
It gave him the most newly-married tingling sensation in his lower thigh. "How unusual!" he said and continued tripping to see Joan Rivers.
When Joan Rivers came out to meet him, she took one look and fell over.
"What is it?" Holy Granola cried stiffly.
"Your toe! And your cancer-riddled tendon!" Joan Rivers said. "They're pickled! Can't you feel it?"
Holy Granola felt his toe and his cancer-riddled tendon. They were indeed quite pickled. "Oh, no!" Holy Granola said. "I'm a woman!" He, or rather, she started to cry. "It must have been that drunken cake you left for me. Did you know what it would do?"
"I didn't leave you any cake," Joan Rivers said. "I got you an onion. It must have been that blotchy man who lives nearby. He acts a little sexily, ever since he fucked a helmet."
"But how can you ever love me, now that I'm a woman?" Holy Granola sobbed.
"Well, I never knew how to tell you this," Joan Rivers said slowly, "but I actually prefer women. And I think your toe is really smelly like that."
"Really?" Holy Granola dried her tears. Holy Granola kissed Joan Rivers and it was an entirely broken sensation, like the excretion of a dying frog, sickening the world's swordfish.
They spent the night having entirely broken sex, until the cake wore off suddenly.
Everything was rather awkward after that.
EDIT: Aww, mine's the same as Jack's! Well, here's another one using the same terms:
I'm Dreaming Of A Blotchy Christmas
It was Christmas Eve. Holy Granola sat slowly in a cat, sipping unpleasant eggnog.
He looked at the ugly onion hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Joan Rivers had hung it there, just before they looked at each other sexily and then fell into each other's arms and fucked each other's toe.
If only I hadn't been so ungodly, Holy Granola thought, pouring a drunken amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Joan Rivers might not have got so broken and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a pickled tear and held his cancer-riddled tendon in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a newly-married voice lifted stiffly up in song.
I'm dreaming of a blotchy Christmas
Just like the excretion of a dying frog, sickening the worlds swordfish
Holy Granola ran to the door. It was Joan Rivers, looking smelly all over with snow.
"I missed you secretly," Joan Rivers said. "And I wanted to fuck your toe again."
Holy Granola hugged Joan Rivers and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," Joan Rivers said.
"I think so too," Holy Granola said and they fucked each other's toe until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted chimpanzee lower thigh and lived breathlessly until Holy Granola got drunk again.