On the eve of my wedding to the Queen Goddess of Sock Puppets, I find myself reflecting on my previous marriage.
Bloody Bertha had an absolutly terrible name, but she was the loveliest person. Well as lovely as a five-time World Chain Fighting Association Champion can be. Yes, she fought people with chains. It wasn't pretty. But it was a passion of hers. Just like knitting or her fascination with dressing me like a blacksmith from the middle ages.
No, she didn't die. But she did end up divorcing me. Turns out, she wanted to marry an actual blacksmith and thus used a time machine to travel back to the middle ages. I know that she had success, because I just read the other week that archaeologists just uncovered an ancient guide to blacksmithing that featured a dedication to Bloody Bertha. Quite touching, right?
Good riddance, I say. Out with the old. Its time for me to begin my new life. I love the Queen Goddess with all my heart. And I hope she knows it everytime I put my hand inside of her.
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1 comments:
Clearly, you are still feeling the Bloody Bertha sting. I know a gal named Crimson Carol. Happy to hook you up.
Blacksmiths? Didn't they go the way of the milkman...?
Truth be told, in my youth, I was a milkman.
An angry young milkman.
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