The other woodland critters that lived in the enchanted forest all wore portions of clothing. A rabbit in a shirt, a dear with blue jeans, squirrels wearing assless chaps, etc. They all had little, fully furnished houses tucked away in hallow trees and elegantly decorated caves. Shimmy never wore clothes because he knew how much it bothered the other woodland creatures. Shimmy hated the other creatures and nothing gave him more pleasure than pissing them off. He would strut down the busy, enchanted forest street shaking his bulbous badger genitals at all who pass him. If a passing critter was to act offended or get upset, Shimmy would simultaneously maul and rape the critter while hysterically laughing the whole time. With nobody to stand up to him, Shimmy grew more and more brazen and his rape more and more brutal.
The mayor of the enchanted forest, Mayor Mallard, called a town hall meeting. All of the forest's anthropomorphic critters were expected to attend. Mayor Mallard started the meeting with his own personal story of heartbreak at Shimmy's hands. Mayor Mallard is a duck and Mrs. Mayor Mallard was recently tackled, raped and devoured for calling Shimmy "uncouth" for violently masturbating in front of the enchanted forest school yard. Mayor Mallard choked back tears as he finished his tale, stood up straight and shouted "something must be done about Shimmy the Asshole Badger". A chorus of "what can we do?" and "He's too powerful" followed.
Mayor Mallard silenced the irate crowd of adorable, clothed critters and said "We kill the motherfucker! If we all work together we can overpower him and take him out, once and for all!" The crowd of critters erupted in applause. Mrs. Beaver shouted something about breaking a bottle off in his ass. Prissy the Owl hooted horrors of eating Shimmy's still-beating heart. Dr. Turtle slowly stated that the most vulnerable point on a badgers body is his tasty groin meats. A raccoon wearing overalls pulled out clumps of his own hair as he screamed "FUCKING KILL HIM!" With all the excitement and explosive blood-lust, the plump, adorable forest creatures did not notice Shimmy standing in the open doorway of the town hall.
Shimmy made his presence known. "So you little fucks all think you can take on my shit!? Motherfuckers!? The assembled creatures screamed and shirked away from Shimmy. Shimmy, holding a large bottle of moonshine, filled the entire doorway with his bulging badger muscles. The forest creatures, their only exit blocked, stood paralyzed with fear. "Well the truth is" said Shimmy "Ya'll probably could. So I figure I should just leave town. I'm not wanted here so I should just go." The crowd's collective stature seamed to exhale in relief. "Psych! You dumb fucks! You really believed me didn't you!? Nobody crosses Shimmy!!!"
The crowd started screaming and tearing at the walls when Shimmy tossed down his full jug of moonshine, took out a match, struck it on his front tooth and dropped it into the quickly spreading, highly flammable puddle. The entrance way of the town hall lit up like a bonfire. Shimmy tossed in a couple more jugs, pulled a slightly smoking rocking chair off the town hall's front porch and kicked back to watch the fire. It took less than 5 minutes for the screaming to cease and another 30 minutes for the flames to die down. Hours later, Shimmy sifted through the ashes of the town hall and nibble on the charred meat and bones of his former animal pals.
|Nobody crosses Shimmy!!!|
Days later, with the bones picked clean, Shimmy masturbated over the charred remains of the citizens of the enchanted forest. He came harder than ever before. Shimmy soon realized that his life would never be as good as it just was, ever again. He calmly walked back to his shanty, hung a noose from the ceiling, stood on a chair, put noose around his neck and again, began masturbating. Just at the point of orgasm, Shimmy intentionally kicked the chair well out of the reach of his dangling feet. The once bustling forest empty, only the rustling sound of the wind in the trees, the babble of the brook and the creaking of a taut rope slowly swinging from a banister, remain.