April Camp Day 6

Good morning!

Fanny is already done!

It was like pulling teeth to get these 377 words.  Took way longer than it should have but Fanny insisted on being a bloody poem.

Well, not a bloody  but I figured it was a better word than fucking.  More polite, yes?  Until I blew it right there.

See, she scrambled my brain.  Hate the woman.  I’m glad we’re past her.  I will probably work on George some later, just to get the daily word count done to keep my stats up, but you won’t see him until tomorrow.

It’ll be a much better quality than this bit of… I’m not sure what this is.  A poem, I think.  That’s what was wanted anyway.  I don’t do poetry.  Spells, sure.  Poems, no.  And this was made harder by her insistence that every line had to start with F.  What the fuck, man.

It’s done.  I’m happy.  

Have a wonderful day!

Muah!

Fanny’s Doom

 

Fanny Fabron is a French witch

Famed for her potions of health.

Fat though she was, people adored her

Funny, dimpled smile.

 

Forever cheerful she was, until the

Flutter of her biological clock

Fogged her brain until a child was all

Fanny desired.

 

From an old black book, worn and

Faded, a spell she searched out.

“Furfur, Furfur…What an odd name,”

Felt Fanny with amusement.

 

“For you a circle shall be cast.

Fiend you are called, lover you shall be.”

Fine male form a demon must have,

Fun for fucking and impregnating.

 

“Fertilize me!” she cried while

Flinging her hands in the air.

“Fornicate with me! But more,

Fond of me, I beg of thee.”

 

Furfur appeared with lightning and a

Funnel cloud fierce.

Fanny gasped and screamed as

Fetid air cleared.

 

Fine male form indeed, had he.

Fanny and head of a deer, chest

Fit for a weight lifter, wings of

Fur and leather.

 

“Fornicate, say you?”

Furfur asked of she.

Feral eyes looked her up and down,

Fat tongue licked skinny lips.

 

Fright past, Fanny stared at

Furry male parts that hung low

For it grew and grew.

“Finally!” she exclaimed.

 

Furfur paused, so used to being

Frightful was he that love was

Foreign to him and unknown.

“Fuck now!” was the gleeful shout.

 

Future comes, as time must pass.

Fritz, was the boy child of the union,

Furred was he, just like his father.

Fuzzy knobs upon his head.

 

Feet like hooves, he was a

Freak among the others.

Fracas and fights broke out often.

Finally, the villagers had enough.

 

Furor and whispered plans.

Forks for pitching, weapons made.

Flames on torches, burning bright.

“Fight Burn them tonight!”

 

Furfur disappeared in a cloud of sulfur.

Fanny cursed him, grabbed her child and

Fled into woods so dark.

Falling and stumbling, scratches galore.

 

Following on their heels, villagers chanted,

“Fat Fanny, furry Fritz.  Die tonight!

Fire to purify, flames to devour!

Father of Lies, welcome your spawn!”

 

Found in a cave, they were, afraid and cold.

Fuel piled around, wood and bark, stick and grass.

Flames touched to pyre

Fire exploded, high and bright.

 

Fanny and Fritz are no more.

Fear killed once and once again.

For fear brought love and,

Finally, destruction.

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