The Yakpocalypse
Chapter One
A long time ago, in a land not so far away, there lived a young yaksexual sherpa. Her name was Patrick, and she was naïve and curious. Fatefully curious. But not bi-curious, for that is another tale.
One chilly day in March, Pat grew bored of reading duck tape and goat pr0ns, and idly started to search through some drawers in search of some better entertainment. After a good half hours' searching - it would have been longer had she not been distracted by a shiny fork - all she had managed to find was a moldy apple, a teacup and some moldy old Yakmas chocolate.
Disgusted and Potteresquely angsty, she vainly tried to come up with things to do. As a sherpa, her mind was often occupied by thoughts of hooved animals. This was how she came to think of the subject of yaks. The thought hit her like a ray of sexeh.
When young Pat was but a padawan sherpa, in sherpa school she had been taught the basic rules of Everything by the Wonderfully Wise Windstorm. The rules were as follows:
1. Ninjas can't catch you if you're Batman.
2. Compuboobs are not a toy
and 3. Never feed chocolate to a yak.
Dun dun dun!
000
As soon as young Pat thought of this, her curiosity was set alight. Why can't you feed chocolate to a yak? What did compuboobs have to do with anything? And why did Adam West like to watch Burt Ward have sexytime?
Pat pondered these thoughts. The second question was impossible to answer, and the third was too disturbing for her innocent young mind. But, as a yaksexual from a family of yaksexuals, she had access to many a yak. And now, thanks to her rummaging, she had some chocolate.
Grabbing the chocolate, Patrick snuck like a sneaky purple ninja from the yurt. She let the felt flap shut behind her, and with a quick guilty glance around her, she set off thorough Sherpaglompia towards the yak fields.
When she reached the top of the hill, where the gate to her family's herd's field was, she paused and looked down onto the village. She could see tiny Glompians moving between the brightly colored yurts. Some of them proudly wore precious tinfoil hats that glinted in the sun. Pat thought she could see some of her friends from Sherpa school, and couldn't wait to tell them what happened when yaks got some chocolate. She knew they would have puzzled over that rule too.
Then she took the aged chocolate out of her pocket, and climbed onto the fence. Taking a deep breath, she screeched out a loud yak-call. A few of the nearest yaks looked up from their grazing, and ambled over to her. Pat reached out to the nearest yak. It had long silvery grey hair and curvy horns. Its face was white under the respirator that was hooked into its nose (yaks can only breathe properly at high altitudes, and the town of Sherpaglompia was in a valley).
"C'mere, wee yaky," Pat cooed softly. She held the chocolate out to the yak, holding her hand out with the flat palm up. Pat watched the pretty yak eat the chocolate, automatically mumbling "nomnomnom" as it did.
Suddenly, the yak's head jerked up from her hand. Its dark eyes widened, and as Pat climbed down from the fence in ph33r, they started to turn a deep blood red. The yak let out a horrifying bellow, and snorted so hard the respirator flew off its face. It didn't seem to need it anymore though; as Pat stared the yak lowered its head and breathed heavily and easily. Pat could have sworn that smoke came out of its ears. The yak appeared to have grown to twice its normal size, and twice its normal angriness. Gaping, young Patrick started to scramble away down the rocky path back to the village.
Before she'd even gone fifty meters, she heard another bellow and then the sound of splintering wood. She turned to look over her shoulder, taking her eyes off the path. As she did, her foot caught on a large rock and she went sprawling to the ground. But not before she'd seen the raging yak charging towards her, the fence smashed behind it.
Pat pushed herself up and turned to face the yak, panic making her unable to run. It galloped towards her at an unbelievable speed. As it neared, it lowered its head and pointed the two extra long yak horns at Patrick's chest.
The yak hit Pat horns first with a sickening splat, and lifted her up, impaled on its horns, without even breaking stride. It thundered towards the village, snorting with mad bloodlusty rage. At the bottom of the path, it skidded to a halt, and dumped the corpse of Pat in the dust.
Then, eyes glowing and whip-tail lashing, it whirled and headed off to the rest of the herd. It had some chocolate madness to spread.