Never beep your car horn at livestock when they are blocking the road…
...is a lesson my impatient Grandad learnt after a dozen frightened cows “opened fire” giving his blue fiesta a lovely brown paint job by all accounts!
(Ella Mentree, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 14:30, 2 replies)

When animals are potentially attacked by other animals.
Not a snappy title, but still.

I'm going to hell for this.

I have had a mouse in my apartment for the last 3 months. No amount of traps, humane or otherwise, have been able to deter the pesky little bugger.

As of 5.30am today, I no longer have a mouse in my apartment. There may, however, be a mouse in a cereal box on the street outside my apartment.

Given that I saw a raccoon outside my apartment a couple of days ago, I'm not holding out much hope for the mouse's survival...

Oh, and a cat did a sick on my knee on Friday. Does that count as "attacked"?
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 14:15, 2 replies)

I like dogs, really I do
But as a 4 year old wasn't aware of how being beaten repeatedly on the head, with a plastic squeeky hammer toy, would enrage a giant german shepherd so much. The answer is a lot.

It was a friend of my Dads, who was visiting, with this toothy, hairy (but lovely) hound. Hound was good as gold, and lay down at end of sofa to chill, while I watched for a bit, then, being bored (and annoying) began tapping it on the head with my favourite toy of the time, a plastic squeeky hammer. Everytime you hit something, it squeeked, and I chuckled. What could be more fun than setting about this dogs gigantic, hairy head with this hammer? Not much, I thought, and went at it with gusto for all of 5 minutes until fangs had had enough.

Turning around, with no bark to warn me, he grabbed my head in his gaping mouth, and squeezed, just hard enough to leave a row of tooth marks across my forehead, and not draw any blood, or even hurt me really if truth be told. He then lay back down again to chill. I sat there agape, and covered in dog slobber for a bit, and, sensibly, stopped attacking him with my hammer. I did have some cool toothmarks for the next hour, which I was everso impressed with, so it wasn't all bad.

My dad said it served me right, and to be fair, it did.
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 14:12, 3 replies)

non existent snake attack
when i was a nipper i wasn't allowed any pets, my mum was a bit of a Hyacinth Bucket type. We were the only people on our council estate that had a 'cloak room' everyone else had a a 'loaby press' or hall cupboard to you.

So when i trotted off to college I shared a flat with two other long suffering blokes who were at best 'indifferent' to pets. i quickly turned into a veritable jonny morris - greatly encouraged by the future Mrs Spimf who bought me two kittens, then an aquarium then one fine day...

an Argentinean red tailed boa constrictor quickly followed by a Burmese python. i should stress that these creatures were docile to the point of dull and more importantly entirely NON venomous

in my final year Mrs Spimf and i were spending more time together and one of the flat-mates was getting on my tits so i got my own place (see my post : annoying spotty prick )

As i was moving in to my new flat this guy approached me, now allow me a moment to describe this bloke: dull green velour tight fitting long-sleeved top, black jogging pants tucked into boots. sideburns cut to a v shaped point. it took me all of two seconds to realise this bloke was dressed as captain kirk.

he shook my hand and proclaimed with great pride "hello, my names Chris and I'm an artist" for that my internal babel fish translated "hello. I'm your neighbor and I'm as mad as a fucking battenburg"

we got to know the chris 'the artist' a bit better and realized 'delusional piss artist' might have been a better moniker - but he seemed harmless enough. I should add the only time i ever saw him paint was when he had become a bit maudlin about his ex - got pissed and wrote in 8 foot high letters along our street (NAME OF EX BINT) I STILL LOVE YOU! he would come up for a beer and a chat now and then and was most interested in my snakes, who had got quite large by now - Coco the burmese python being around 7 feet long by now and as thick as your forearm, Basil the Boa a fair bit smaller. so not exactly 'monster snake man-eating size' we discussed at length that they were NON venomous which seemed to satisfy chris the artist particularly when i showed him some defrosted rats bought from the pet suppliers being fed to them.

Anyhoo one fine summers evening i was enjoying more than a few beers at home and mrs spimf decided to retire to bed. pissed and bored i decided to mist some water using a plant sprayer into the snake vivarium - which i had built myself, was as large as a chest freezer and had some nice smoked glass sliding doors.

next thing i know I'm coming round with this Chris 'the artist' standing over me with a huge fuck off hunting knife clutching an SAS Survival Handbook

"what the fuck are you doing in here and what the FUCK are you doing with that knife"

"looking for puncture wounds" he said quite calmly. I should point out i was also only wearing a pair of boxer shorts (warm summer evening) and was beginning to feel quite perturbed by events.

"WHAT!!!" what fucking puncture wounds?

then mrs spimf intervened

she had heard a loud thud and came in to find me out cold with the snakes nosing their slithery way out of the tank and over me. she gave me a shake and couldn't wake me so had panicked somewhat and decided to go and get "Chris the artists help".

I turns out somehow in my pissed up state i managed to get some water on the lighting or heating electrics and got a slight belt. however when i recoiled i must have battered my noggin on the edge of the vivarium and knocked myself out. (big bruise on forehead and shorted out lights in tank - sherlock)

so our self styled bohemian star trekking survivalist nutter of a neighbour - presumably who had long been prepared for such an emergency had sprung into action with a bloody rambo knife and some camouflage fetishists handbook open at the page on dealing with venomous snake bites.

like i say mad as a fucking battenburg
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 14:03, 6 replies)

Spider attack
When I was about 8yrs I remember sitting down for a dump. Wait, probably a poo. I was too small for a dump then. So anyway while I was doing my thing this rather large rain spider ran up my leg. I panicked and bolted out the loo screaming. This obviously alerted everyone in the house (it was school holidays so my sister, brother, mum and cleaner were home) and they ran to find me traumatised in the passage with a trail of poo behind me. Not my finest hour.

Just so you know, these spiders are large and very hairy.


BIG PICTURE OF SAID SPIDER
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 14:00, 5 replies)

Raar! Dog attack!
Several months back, my stepmum decided for whatever reason to get a new dog. As such, when my dad got home from work he was greeted by a friendly little black labrador named Jess. However, what the people at the pound decided not to mention was that the dog was (and still is) an absolute hyperactive mental case.

As such, she's great fun to play with, the problem being that she wants to play all the time regardless of whether you're trying to read the paper/eat dinner/fix a faulty plug/whatever. When she's not bringing a ball to you and nudging your leg until you throw it, she's running around crazily, barking at nothing in particular. Sometimes playing with her can be a bit like pass-the-parcel with live fireworks. Fun, but liable to cause injury.

The actual qotw-relevent incident occured when I was down my dad's one weekend. I was chatting to my dad in his bedroom when he dropped something, and being the helpful chap I am, I leaned across the bed to pick it up.
Unfortunately Jess decided then was a good time to run upstairs into the room and jump up onto the bed.

Landing paw-first on my nads.

Startled by my subsequent shout of pain/surprise, she tried to escape. This involved her scrabbling around on my back, before finally propelling herself off, in the process delivering a sharp kick to the back of my head.
Her five seconds of mayhem complete, she then ran back downstairs, leaving my dad sniggering in the corner and me lying on the bed quietly whimpering. When I came down a few minutes later she was sitting on the sofa, with a simpleton grin that clearly said "That was great fun, wasn't it? Wanna throw the ball for me?"

Bitch.
(Uncle Comrade, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 13:11, Reply)

Bullocks..
.
Many moons ago, in the 80's, I was living in Alnwick, Northumberland. And this one day, I acquired a kite so I headed off to The Pastures to try it out.

The Pastures is the land overlooked by Alnwick Castle. A picturesque meadow full of butterflies and flowers. And bullocks.

Now bullocks are fairly sensible. They're peaceful male cows who've had their wedding tackle removed and are more interested in eating than attacking humans. I'd been down to The Pastures many times and had absolutely no trouble with them. Until today.

So, there I was, wandering across The Pastures with my shiny new kite. Bullocks looked at me and then ignore me, as is their wont.. (BTW - have you noticed how I start to ramble after a couple of glasses of wine and take ages to get to the point? Thought not..)

Anyway. So I found a nice little hill and started to unpack my kite. My big *blue* kite. Pay attention at the back, the colour is important. So I lay my kite out on the ground and started to slot the rods in. And noticed something. The bullocks.

The whole herd had gathered at the top of another rise, about 50 yards away, and were staring at me intently. I was a little freaked by this but thought they were just curious. So I carried on with my task. Rods inserted, string attached, I was ready to go. And those fucking bullocks were a lot closer now. They were sniffing the air, pawing the ground and looked distinctly unfriendly.

Bugger them. So I took my kite in my hand and started to run down the hill and threw the kite up into the air. The wind caught it and it soared joyously into the sky. And the bullocks went spastic. They let out a mass "MOOOOOOO" and charged down the hill towards me.

Now picture this if you can. Me, running down a hill, towing a kite, and, very close behind me and getting closer all the time, 50 very pissed off bullocks. About 20 tons of beef-on-the-hoof intent on catching me.

Fear gives you wings.

So I let go of the kite and legged it for the river. It was too far and the bullocks were too fast. I thought my time was up as the first bullocks caught up with me. And then, a miracle. They parted like the Red Sea and galloped to either side of me, now ignoring me and trying to catch the kite that was blowing away towards the castle.. WTF?

So I slowed to a stop and, lungs heaving, watched them all stop at the river and gaze wistfully at the departing kite. And then I heard the broom-broom of an approaching motor vehicle. It was a quad-bike, and sitting on it, tears rolling down his face, was Rory, an old farmer who I knew slightly.

It turned out that he'd watched the whole thing and knew why the bullocks had went apeshit.

"It was the colour of the kite" he said "It's exactly the same colour as the feed sacks that I use for their cattle cake. Silly buggers though that you were there to feed them and, when they saw their cattle cake taking off into he sky, thought they'd better try and catch it"....

And then we went for a pint. Me, to calm down, Rory, to tell as many people as he could about what he'd seen.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 13:08, 8 replies)

Oops
I accidentally posted 'kill the cunts' in relation to the seagull story. But in the wrong place.
You could apply that advice to any other animal that might attack though.
(beebolbod for those that are hard of hearing - LISTEN, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 12:48, Reply)

Tilly
Poor stupid Tilly, a Bassett with a penchant for eating her own shit, getting 'tillyplexed' by my older brother and raiding the bins when no one was looking. My mum doted on the stinky thing like she was her daughter, so the day when Tilly began running round in circles was a little bit distressing for my mum. And these weren't bit garden style circles, these were like doggy doughnuts, the dog version of jormungandr if you will. "she's just having a funny five minutes, thats what it is" say ma. 4 hours later our canine friend hadn't stopped, but being the usual style bassett "unfit and lazy", her front legs had gone and she was now plowing her way around the tiled kitchen floor" much like a skidoo.

Eventually after an 'all nighter' she succumbed to exhaustion and just couldn't move anymore, she stopped, threw up the contents of the bin she had raided and promptly passed out.

A visit to the vet (and examination of her vom) revealed poisoning by edit:cyanide generated by eating a whole bag of almonds my mum had thrown out.

...however we knew better. My brothers girlfriend had thrown away a gram of base speed the night before because it was "too much" and Tilly had come in to the bedroom and raided the bin.

We would never have forgiven ourselves if Tilly had died that day, but as she ended up ok, Tillys foray into the house of dance is now legend where I come from.

How did she attack you may ask?

She puked on my bed....
(Meganinja, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 12:47, 1 reply)

Cats/ spiders
My cat loves spiders... until their legs have all come off. He then gets bored, and leaves them to die like abandoned raisins.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 12:43, 7 replies)

What kills spiders?
I'm going outside to re-pot my tomato plants. I may be some time. There is a spider infestation out the front of my house. I have tried hot water, ant poison, weed killer, and running round screaming, all to no avail. If anyone knows how I can kill hundreds of the little fuckers, do let me know.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 12:36, 27 replies)

Sheeeeeeeeep!
January 2nd 2000, Edinburgh. My kidneys still ached from the debauch of a couple of nights before - I had a vague memory of lights in the sky (fireworks, apparently...) and the blonde whose body I'd been exploring - but my head was finally clear. I decided to do a bit of hillwalking. I'm that way inclined on occasion.

My route took me into the countryside near Peebles. I passed a field full of sheep and stopped to go "Aaaaahhhh..." for a bit. The sheep were not shy; they did not run away. They approached. They were friendly. I stroked a couple on the head.

After a little while, I decided to press on. The sheep followed. Being sheep, they followed en masse. There must have been about 50 of them. And they were all following me. The farmer was approaching from the other side of the field. I upped my pace, unsure of whether I was, strictly speaking, on a public path.

The sheep matched my pace. I could not shake them.

Is sheep rustling still a crime in Lothian? Who knows? And is it sheep rustling if the sheep are complicit? Or had they simply formed themselves into their own ovine vigilante group? A sort of neighbourfold watch? Not wanting to find out, I upped my pace a bit more. Gradually, very gradually, I began to leave them behind, though they still followed me.

I passed the farmer. He was lovely, and we chatted about my planned route. He wished me well, and I continued on my way.

In the winter sunlight, all that clouded my happiness was the thought that, in effect, I had just had to run away from a flock of sheep.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 12:31, 11 replies)

I hate dogs and cats
And most of the stories about them on here this week have been fucking boring.

So, in an act of hypocrisy, I'm going to post a story about being attacked by a dog.

(This one is pretty boring too)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many years ago, when I was a very young man, about six or seven, we had people across the road who had a dog that they used to let run about the place.
This dog, with the wonder of hindsight, was a collie-sized mongrel puppy, and really bouncy.

To my young self it was bigger than me, and intent on knocking me down to kill me by eating my face.
Every time I left the house this one-headed Cerberus would run up and jump at me, and I would get the fear and flee.

One day I decided that I'd had enough, so armed myself with a walking stick, put on a huge pair of Wellington boots (my Dads, I think, must've been up to my crotch), oven mitts and topped off the protective ensemble with a small colander on my head.

I marched out to the battlefield to face my Grendel-like foe.

Right on cue the bastard hell-spawn ran at me, but this time I stood firm, shut my eyes and managed to score a lucky hit right in the poor creature's knackers.

It whimpered, ran off, and never bothered me again.
I had won.

The end.
( Cawl, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 12:17, 5 replies)

My best friend *long*
Ozzy is best described as a regular black feline by most, but to me she's affectionately known as stealth killer due to her ability to sneak up on people and scare the crap out of them. This is how my ex first thought of her upon meeting Ozzy, but now he knows better.

I'd just moved in with the ex and both cats were shut away in the spare room so they could get used to the new house one room at a time - obviously I'd go see them often and make sure they had food and water and give them cuddles and such. I left the room, but forgot to latch it properly as I got back into bed with the ex for some sexy time.

So we start kissing and playing with each others hair, my hand drifts down to his rapidly growing cock and pretty soon I shift the kissing from his lips downwards, paying special attention to his nipples, his belly button...moving ever downwards. Then just to tease him I ignore his pulsing cock and begin licking and kissing the insides of his thighs, all around his groin area, but still not touching his cock.

I take one of his balls in my mouth and gently suck, turning it over with my tongue coating it in saliva, I then pay special attention to his other ball, suckling it like a gentle piglet hungry for milk. He's almost screaming at this point, desperate for me to wonderful things to his angry red shaft, so I give it a quick but long lick all the way along the underside. He trembles and begs for more. I smile and give another furtive lick.

Whether or not Ozzy noticed him grab my head and force me down onto his cock and start plotting revenge upon the nasty naked man or if she just didn't like him, I'll never know as she's not saying. I end up giving him the blowjob of his life and he's lying there shuddering for some time afterwards with his eyes closed. I get up to go brush my teeth, when I hear him moaning from the bedroom. I wonder what's the deal, then figure maybe he's having a wank - he did that a lot with full vocal effects - so I stop in to see the cats again. Only I cant find Ozzy stealth killer. I look under the spare bed, in cupboards, even check the window ledge knowing that I haven't had the window open since last night.

I run back into the room to tell the ex that Ozzy's missing when I spot her. She's lying between his open legs inspecting his member with interest. She sees me, and I could swear I see her leer as she does the wiggly bum thing and then launches her attack.

The ex was never quite the same after he picked himself up from across the room, penis intact but only just.

And Ozzy, she bolted as soon as she realised her prey was attached to the big shouty man and went back to the spare room to wash herself.

I love that cat.

No apologies for length, about 6ft across a room stark bollock naked as far as I recall.
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 11:49, 4 replies)

Crazy flatmate and Damien the cat
Batshit McFatCunt to give her her full name came to live with us as she was known by a friend-of-a-friend who said she was awesome and would be a joy to live with…this was a lie. Batshit brought with her a possessed cat – a real unholy motherfucker – meaner than a mean thing with extra sharp claws that didn’t blink – it stared. It stared directly and fixedly at your soul. It was clear from the start that Batshit’s cat was going to kill us. We may have been suffering slightly from paranoia but the cat was just pure evil. It hissed, spat and clawed at anything that moved within ten feet of it. Now I blame Batshit for the behavior of the cat but he seemed to revel in his cuntiness.

With overlords now living with us we had to formulate a plan to get rid of them - Frog Brothers style. (Douse the fucker in garlic and holywater…was not something we tried). Well it was decided that Lance – a fat med student would sort out this problem. Lance was the only person who got up early enough.

For two weeks Lance got up and cleaned out Damien’s kitty litter tray and disposed of the evidence elsewhere. I forgot to mention Damien was a house cat - shame really as we lived near a busy road.

So Batshit starts to question us, did you clean out Damien’s kitty tray? Nope, not us. Batshit started to worry – we all searched the house for kitty poop but found nothing. Batshit starts to worry that Damien is ill and plans trip to the vets. Other than needing an exorcism Damien gets a clean bill of health, and I’ll bet he behaved beautifully for the vet.

Two weeks pass and Damien hasn’t done a single shit – until one Saturday morning – the house is full of a gut wrenching stench and there in the kitchen in the middle of Damiens kitty litter tray is the biggest stinkiest shit – almost curling over the sides. Lance had done a fine jobby indeed. Knowing he’s been fixed up Damien has a rather perplexed look on his face. Batshit is woken up and told that the kitty tray needs cleaning…I’m not sure she ever questioned the enormous turd laid by Damien as he was much better after that.
(i anglepoise, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 11:44, 2 replies)

Loch Ness Monster
I was raped by the Loch Ness Monster.

Still have the scars on my anus to prove it.

Length? Like a baseball bat.
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 11:21, 3 replies)

The sexual awakening of chickenlady (another long one)
(an official tale from the magical land of Far, far away. As you're all b3tans, and this is a long story, you may wish to skip to the ****s below)

Among the hills and fields of the most rural parts of the green and pleasant land that we call Far, far away, there stood a small, ramshackle farmhouse. This particular farmhouse was home to a dozen or so young ladies each named after their parents' (dead obviously, as is always the case with fairy tales, these ones died in a tragic cribbage accident) favourite poultry, there was turkeygirl, pheasantwoman, peacockfemale, pigeonbird... some others, and the youngest and most bashful of them all, chickenlady.

chickenlady was as beautiful as she was shy, with lots of curly, brown locks of hair (fortuntately most of which were on her head), a cute little face with sparkly little chicken eyes and the kind of toned, svelte body that would turn most men into gibbering, drooling, sun dials.
She would say nary a word to anyone, prefering instead to lose herself in the latest Jilly Cooper or Mills & Boon, getting her rocks off single-handedly at every mention of a 'stiff love truncheon'.

But, alas, all the occupants of the farm were left unsatisfied, their rampaging hormones would send them all proper mental at least once a month, and they would barely escape their regular cat fights with their lives, let alone their clothes.

It was during one of these many lady tussles (turkeygirl had used pigeonwoman's hair straighteners, and received a resounding punch in the face for her trouble), that while our heroine, chickenlady sat reading another classic; 'Farmer Pickle's Love Box', that the doorbell rang.

*knock-knock*, it went.

The girls immediately stopped what they were doing, re-adjusted their jims-jams, peacockwoman had to remove her fingers from turkeygirl's hair as they had been tangled in the fraca, and looked at each other. None of them was expecting a visitor, why, no-one had even been to the farm in months.
As it was around 9pm, and dark outside, they knew it would be best to err on the side of caution. Each of the young women armed themselves quickly, some with rolling pins, some with hairbrushes, others with certain battery-operated devices that the others had only ever heard late at night. They crowded around the door, poised and ready. chickenlady stood on a stool, her quite heavy book held over her head, waiting for the right moment to bring it crashing down on her imaginary assailant's head.

Turkeygirl timidly opened the door, to be faced with a man, of sorts, he appeared to be very small, quite untidy, and had an usual amount of facial hair, though he did have a totally disarming air about him too, and seemed completely unthreatening.

Most of the girls promptly lost interest, preferring as they do the larger, more gruff kind of man. But chickenlady stayed, 'Hello kind sir, how may I help you tonight?' she almost whispered, barely audibly.
But he did not reply, he just stared back at her with his dark, beady little eyes, and casually scratched himself.
Thinking that perhaps the man was not possessed of all his faculties, and may be in need of care, the kind little chickenlady offered him a bed for the night, and prepared him a room at the other end of the house to her own. He did not thank her, which she thought was a little rude, but she was aware that clearly this man was either unable to speak at all, or perhaps he was even more shy than herself.

That night, everybody in the farmhouse was settling in to sleep, when some of the sisters pondered upon a brilliant scheme. They snuck their hot little bodies in their skimpy little pyjama tops and cute french panties (what..? -I'm not allowed to get pervy?), into the room where chickenlady slept. They picked her up, and without waking her, they carried her to the stranger's room, where they laid her on the floor and left, locking the door behind them.

The click of the key in the lock awoke chickenlady with a start. She looked about her, her eyes adjusting to the gloomy room. The stranger was asleep in his bed, curled up by the pale light of a small candle by his bedside. Frightened and bewildered, chickenlady got up quietly, and reached for the door.


**********sexy fun tiem starts here********

chickenlady's attempts to scrabble at the door had aroused the stranger from his slumber, she could hear him stirring behind her, and froze where she stood.
She heard him wriggle on the bed for a moment, then his footsteps shuffled across the dusty floor, until he was right behind her.
She could feel his hot breath, warming the back of her neck, and the presence of his body pressing almost against her back. She sighed and closed her eyes as he reached out to touch her. His tough, leathery hands stroked their way up her bare arms, and he began to play with her hair.
His lips hovered just over her shoulder, lightly brushing it with soft, barely detectable movements. She was dying for him to kiss her, to feel his lips on her right at that very moment, why wasn't he kissing her?!-her head filled with a thousand thoughts.

His hands made their way from her gorgeous, curly hair, across her soft cheeks and down her front, gently teasing his way around her erect nipples, before making their way across her soft, toned stomach. She allowed herself to let out a little moan, but she was well aware that she wasn't going to let herself go completely, not yet.

She slipped her little white nightie off her shoulders and it fell to her feet, this excited the stranger, she could feel him already digging into her back, but this caused him to throb harder. His rough hands carried ont their way, downwards, inside chickenlady's already moist knickers, this time she whimpered, and she had to hold onto the door she was facing, as her knees nearly gave way beneath her.
His fingers explored, teasing their way through the soft folds of her wet, exposed flesh. He stroked in little circles, first around the outside of her pulsating clitoris, then slowly on it, down to her soaked lips, before softly guiding them inside of her, stroking upwards, hitting the little spot that she had never known was there before.
chickenlady's legs were almost buckling now, she was moaning softly and her thighs were becoming sticky with the juices that were starting to run down her legs, she was only held up the strangers hand, his crotch digging into her from behind and his other hand now tenderly playing with her curls again.

He kissed her neck, she could feel the softness of his lips on her as he sucked, and she leaned back, her hands reaching out to hold him.
He stopped, and turned her around. They were face to face now, pressed right up against each other, and she was still dying for that kiss... But, he pushed her to the bed, there was more still to come.

Laid on the bed, chickenlady felt more exposed than she ever had in her life, but she was dying for him to... she didn't know, all of this was new to her, she wanted him, she just didn't know exactly what it was she was yearning for.
He took his time removing her drenched panties, and kissed his way from her knees, up her thighs, paying close attention to any part that made her moan that little bit harder, before he put his mouth on her...

chickenlady gasped, she had never felt anything like this before, his warm, soft tongue and lips were doing things to her that she could never have imagined. She writhed about on the bed, grabbing the sheets hard with clenched hands, and he teased her for what felt like an eternity.

When the stranger had had his fill, he sat up, and mounted the beautiful girl with whom he had been lucky enough to have an encounter with that fateful evening.
Pressing himself right up against her, until finally, painstakingly, agonisingly slowly, he entered her, and gave her the kiss that she had been waiting for.

They made love for hours, long into the night, and awoke cheerful and happy, cuddled up in each other's arms, chickenlady pressed against the silent stranger's hairy chest.

They laid there for hours, until Mrs Monkey burst into the farmhouse, and battered the shit out of both of them. She dragged the cheating Mr Monkey, who had escaped from the zoo that night, all the way home by his nipple hair.

...and that was the story of how chickenlady lost her virginity to an unfaithful monkey...

(massive apologies to chickenlady, and for the lack of wolf-bagging again, but you asked for a sequel!)

I wrote this in lieu of CHCB's QOTW suggestion, nicely tying it in with this week's one, I think.
I really should do some work.
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 11:08, 93 replies)

Meat Eating Cat
When I moved to Ireland and set up house, I felt that I really needed a cat to make my new home complete.

So, being the responsible sort, I got a cat from a rescue place. Bean is a mature cat, with an iron will, and like other cats, she took a while to settle in.

After a couple of months, well pas the hide behind the TV stage, she was sleeping in the bed, sitting on the table, the normal stuff that cats do.

One Saturday morning, I was sleeping with my fingers laced on my chest I wake up with Bean walking over me and starts licking one of my fingers. Cute, I think. Then she starts gently nibbling my finger tip, still cute but a bit odd.

Then she lines up her mouth to take a chunk out of my finger, I pull away quickly enough to avoid blood loss.

She does this a few times to both me and my partner.

It's not until a couple of weeks later that I put the pieces of the puzzle together. The lady that she lived with last was rather old and died rather suddenly, and I'm guessing that she was left in the house with her for a couple of days. So it looks as if she was just checking to see if we were asleep or dead.
(lympicita_ie, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 11:02, 2 replies)

Kick-Me Dogs
There I was, standing at the bus stop, eating a pie when an oldish woman with a pekingese wandered up and stood at the stop with me. The pekingese sat there, staring at me eating my pie and drool was dripping from it's mouth. Quite off-putting it was.

So I said to old lady:

"Excuse me, but do you mid if I chuck your dog a bit?"

"Not at all" said the old lady smiling.

So I picked the fucker up and threw it into the traffic. Then finished off my pie.

Cheers

What? Yes, I know that joke is older than than the pyramids but I just felt like telling it.....
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 10:20, 1 reply)

Cycling helmet
Went for a wee when out camping. Just putting the old fellow away again when I got an almighty pain on the end. Assuming I'd zipped up my fly without due care and attention, I carefully unzipped it and had a look. What should I see but an enormous black beetle, chomping away on the end of my cock looking like a big cycling helmet.

'AAAARGH!', I say succinctly, brushing the fucker off. And then I searched for it for it the grass and couldn't even find it to stamp on.

Had to go straight off for a wank to make sure everything was still working properly.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 9:45, 3 replies)

At this very moment....
No. I just can't be arsed.

I noticed this morning that outside my wondow on the roof of a building opposite, I have a pair of seagulls about to nest.

I don't know if you've lived near the bastards, but they scream like fuck ALL the time.

Question... Do I shoot the gulls, and have the gul bodies on the roof for ages (and possibly draw attention to it) ... or Do I shoot the eggs once they're popped out, and give the gulls no reason to sit there?

It's a perfectly safe shot which I can guarantee won't go astray. They're nesting in a "planter" and it's only at a range of 15 meters. The Pellet will disappear into the planter without a problem, and will - thanks to the Steyr LG-100 and a tasty silencer - arrive with pinpoint accuracy and without a noise.

Choices.. shoot birds, or smash eggs.... They're not endangered... and the Eggs aren't protected.

You can call me Evil all you like... The bare reality is that if I end up with baby bloody seagulls waking me at 4am every day, I'll become Satan himself.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 28 Apr 2008, 9:43, 33 replies)

A pretty shit story really
But i'll tell anyway.

My parents had a big dumb Golden Retriever named Holly. I had only lived with it for a few years before i moved out but i loved the big lump.

So, parents decide to go on holiday and dont want to put the mutt in a doggy hotel.

They ask me to look after her whilst they swan around Mexico for 3 weeks. No problem, id love to look after her, i do miss her after all.

So, they drop her round on the way to the airport, she seemed a little scared but managed to calm her down later that day with a massive curry i was eating. Next morning i head off to work and leave the back door open do she can do her business outside.

It was a windy day and the door must have closed.

The sight i came home too i will never forget, there was shit everywhere, and i mean everywhere, on the walls/stairs/doors/carpet/kitchen/TV/Sofa and worst of all dog.

She must have had great fun rolling in her shit all day and running around the house.

The sight of her sitting by the door covered in crap with a massive grin will never leave me. I had to get in cleaners that normally deal with the dead to deal with it.

Not good
(Lanceuppercut, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 8:11, 1 reply)

Terrier of Terror
You have to understand that I'm big. No, that's not quite right -- I'm more huge than big. Over 300 lbs., and over 6'3" tall. I tend to intimidate people without trying, and when I try, well...

Anyway, I'm visiting some friends, and they ask me to run around the corner to get something from the store. Noticing that the corner lot is an otherwise-empty nice green lawn, I cut across.

Cue the titular terrier, racing towards me, dragging it's chain, growling and barking at full voice. I nearly wet my pants, high-stepping away, squealing like a sissy!

Reaching the safety of the sidewalk, I look back, making sure that the chain stopped the terror. It had. All 6-inches of the wee little beastie. I looked around to see if I'd been seen. Oh yes, my friends were on the lawn laughing. The neighbors were laughing. I'm surprised there wasn't a local news van filming.

Yes, I ran to safety, scared to death of a tiny puppy that I outweighed by a factor of 60. Damned effective watch dogs, those little yappy ones.
(danalan Pretty good, for an amateur., Mon 28 Apr 2008, 7:39, 1 reply)

and then think snakes
friend of a friend story. sorry.

this woman has owned her pet snake for fifteen years. obv. a snake is the essential companion for someone who lives by themselves. pfft.

she noticed it behaving strangely. she'd find it lying around with its jaws dislocated. it would refuse to eat anything. at night, she was used to it curling up beside her bed but she'd wake and it would be stretched out of the floor.

troubled, she took it to the vet who told her it had been preparing to eat her.

bloody hell. buy a kitten.
(ladyintheradiator, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 1:50, 3 replies)

also think squirrels
my friend tells me that one particularly harsh winter a swarm of ravenous squirrels were seen to dive out of a tree and devour an entire alsation dog.

sounds like a myth.

still, dozens of the buggers live in the trees around our accommodation. there IS something sinister about taking the rubbish down to the bins in the mist and seeing them watching you from afar with their black, beady eyes.

i wouldnt put it past them.
(ladyintheradiator, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 1:45, 1 reply)

think hitchcock's 'the birds'
there we were minding our own business at college and an almighty flock of birds flew at the window so hard that they darkened the room.

need i say we weren't expecting this and promptly shat ourselves.
(ladyintheradiator, Mon 28 Apr 2008, 1:42, Reply)

You know that bit with the facehugger in Aliens
It amazes me how many different habits people have when sleeping, some like the windows open, doors closed, doors open, no pillow, big pillow, no light, little bit of light, music on (a friend of mine used to fall asleep to Megadeth on his walkman), pyjamas, nightie you get the idea... For me, I like complete darkness and everything closed tight. I used to have the window open a little bit, but since that time I woke up with a giant (5cm) cockroach on my chin that ain't happening no more. I also sleep as God intended: Omnipotent er I mean in the nudie. So anyway the whole house is dark, all doors are closed and the only thing stirring is my bladder. It is rather upset that I've turned it into some sort of pikey hot water bottle through the night and it is demanding to be emptied.
Now I know my house quite well, as you'd expect. It's a single floor and the bathroom is right down the other end of the house. Why would I bother turning on the light eh? The house is free from random chairs, shin killing coffee tables and upturned plugs. Only people in the UK are nodding knowingly at that one: sometime in the late 30's a guy came to see the government and said "right chaps we've got these smooth two prong round things that Johnny foreigner uses or I've got this flat backed three pronged beauty, and look I've sharpened the ends to dull points, England: we have a winner".
Right where was I, yeah so I use my internal memory map of the house to navigate to the bathroom: out of bedroom door, pace, pace, pace, squeaky floorboard, four more paces to the door to the lounge, open door...and then...and then something happens which doesn't usually happen. You know that bit with the facehugger in Aliens? As it runs about trying to hug face it makes a funny noise halfway between a pattering of a lobster on steroids and the sound of skin being cut open. Not generally a welcome sound, even less when you hear it accompanying a dark shadow moving quickly on the other side of the room. Now I don't really live in a rough area, but it used to be, so all the windows have bars and the doors are deadlocked. The only weak point is, you guessed it, the one bathroom. It sits on the other side of the main rear door in a little sort of added on annex which has a flimsy patio door to the outside. Now I'm not a big brave person or anything like that, but I was half asleep and I do have guinea pigs which live in the house (in hutches) so I figured one of two things had happened:
I'm imagining it or:
one of the piggies has got loose and is doing it's best to make me crap my pants (ha - tough luck piggy, I sleep nudie), at no point do I assume there is a facehugger in my house. So 'bugger it' I think, and walk through the lounge...through the open plan kitchen, unlock the big dead bolt door into the annex and go into the loo.
I have a lovely wee.
I walk back through kitchen into the lounge, no point in putting the light on. When I get to the hallway I hear that weird scritch scritch sound as before but this time it's ahead of me. Hmm odd, I turn, check the animals are safely in there hutch (there is a little bit of twilight in the lounge), they are. So I walk back to the bedroom and stop at the doorway peering into the gloom. The noise has now changed. It's no longer the scritch scritch, it's more of a scrabble scrabble, and it's loud, I mean LOUD. I am now severely freaked with a complete case of 'The Fear'. My partner has woken up with the noise and is wondering how I can be standing in the bedroom doorway but making a noise from the other corner.
This is it. I turn on the light. For a moment we're all stunned. None of us can see a damn thing because of the bright light. Slowly the high contrast fades and my eyes hurt as the pupils contract to pin pricks. I can see the walls, the bed, and my partner staring up at me with a very concerned (angry) face. Oh, also there is a honking great rat sat on top of the covers. It’s the size of Belgium. It's looking at me. It's not looking happy. It looks like it wants to eat my face. Fortunately my partners face is much closer. Hey, I didn't say it was fortunate for everyone.
So what do I do? I'm blocking his only exit and my partner is still looking at me and not at the creature 8 inches away. You know when you say to someone "Don't turn around" or "don't move while I get this thing of your head" or "Don't freak out but I think its fangs are in you" they invariably turn round or move or like scream incoherently about not liking fangs. So I don't say a thing; I move my eyes and lift my eyebrow to indicate that I'm staring at something of considerable interest. My partners gaze follows.
Then there's like this giant rat eating my face.

My partner contests that a simple knee jerk reaction to pull on the duvet caused the creature to be catapulted in my direction. I know better, he had taken a liking to my pretty eyes. I like my eyes too, admittedly I don't use them as often as I should, like going to the toilet in the middle of the night, but all in all I like my eyes in my face and not in a rat.

Ratty or ARRRRRGGGHGHHGJESUSGETIMOFFGETHIMOFF as I like to call him, made a bolt down the hall and is currently hiding out somewhere in the lounge. Quite frankly how we can't find something of his size is stupefying.
...it's the next evening now; I have a humane trap set up in the lounge. I'm wishing this desk had a glass surface so I could see if anything was coming near my feet. When I've finished typing this I'm off to eBay for a bedpan.

no apologies, for size is important

edit: now with extra carriage returns!
( KittyWaste lives at Sleepingplanet.com, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 23:27, 5 replies)

Rabbits!
I love animals me, and animals love me back. I have always been able to approach any animal, big or small, and strike up an instant rapport with them. All that is, except for rabbits.

I don't know what it is, but every single one of the long eared bastards has it in for me. If I dare to put my hand anywhere near a rabbit, it'll go for me. All of them. Even the rabbits in petting zoos that have been prodded, pulled, poked, and tormented by all manner of snot-nosed brats will go for me if I even think about petting them. It's like I'm the anti-bunny or something.

Bunch of floppy, stroppy cunts, the lot of them.
( Damocles wants no part of your debauchery, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 23:22, 3 replies)

SQUIRREL !!!!!!!!!!
A few years ago i was working at a care home and when putting out the trash i opened up the dumpster i was greated by a furry wee thing flying out of said receptacle towards me.

I nearly soiled my combats !!
(shug, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 22:57, Reply)