Tolden Goad and the Goothless Allitator

©2009 CC Riter

One day as Tolden Goad was alopping hong the banks of the melly smuddy swamp seeking a borsel for his melly. He decided to deplore the banks for a masty tinnow or two. He shopped into the hallows and meered into its puggy dilled fepth. He kowly slept slooving and mowly crept keeping as his eyes wept kotch mor his feal. Slower he slent and wower cree hept and sen he thwallowed a fish.

As he twaddled upon the bank and tas whinking of eating a slug a goothless allitator came charging on shore and being soothless, twallowed him whole! Now Tolden Goad was in the stooshy hogmace and it was dark, at dirst he fidn’t know what to do. “I know,” he said to pittle goadme. “I’ll just thraddle on wough. So on he taddled woo the gruck and the mime squishing his way to the end. Out on he thopped prough the relly smectum swith a plash all covered in poothless allitator goop.

“Look me oh what have I done?” Said pittle Tolden Goad to goadme. “I ost my lawtch and know not what the time is. Now I must go lack and book, for the hour is late and my wife will dear I am fead.

So pittle Tolden Goad jumps in the goothless allitator butt once more, his swatch to oon trerieve. Squishing his way back into the stooshy hogmace he soon finds the iny twatch and gerrily moes on his way.

Safe at last or so he winks he thaddles toward his hole that is home. Now along the way he frightens a smellydoo with strite whipes. Gone are the days of a hoppy hame as his wife soon awases him chay. “How dare you bring that stench into my home!” She chided. Poor Tolden Goad was in the doghouse for days.

 Moral of story: Stay away from smellydoos with strite whipes or don’t go home at all.