AN: So, what do you guys think so far? Drop a review, much appreciated, and remember to keep checking in for updates ;p
Chapter Eight: Foxy Friskhounds
Later that evening, back at their fancy vacation home, Rhett, Mustache, Anne and Rattail were enjoying themselves around the dinner table; engorging their tummies with whole chickens, cakes and various ways to feast on a potato. Mustache was even more in the dumps now, all these horrible memories he tried so hard to forget were all rushing back to him now. Scorlett's scary presence in town, the sweet, passionate love of his life, Pie, and now the abusive Curly Q relationship he endured for three months against his mustachey will. Rattail was being pushed further and further away, she slept by herself on the back of Anne's blotchy neck, crying herself to sleep at the fact that Mustache would no longer would touch her. They quarreled over spilt milk and long, dead dreams. Mustache, one evening, even growled at her, not a sexy growl-but a raise his little furs in rage kinda growl, and from then on Rattail became fed up and emotionally detached. She longed for the sweet pokes and prickly kisses of that once proud Mustache…the mustache she met a year ago. But he was gone, and Rattail didn't know why.
The following week Mustache had separated from Rhett at night, gone on long, thoughtful walks alone, sulking in the dark cafes late at night, smoking thick cinnamon sticks while plump tears fell to the floor. He was distraught and alone in this world now, or so he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, a deep purple Marion berry Pie, shimmered in glistening juices and glorious, crispy crust. She was sitting alone at a table in the center of the room, smoking from what looked to be a French quellazaire, or cigarette holder. She glanced up briefly and, disinterested, looked away pretentiously. This, he thought, was what he'd been looking for, a pie so mysterious, so beautiful and dark, so... perfect; he needed her to fill the hole in his heart.
He looked down in deep thought for a sheer moment, and when he looked back up, she was gone. He'd only hoped he would see her again, sometime soon.
Meanwhile as Mustache was out on the town, looking for some fine pie hole to tear into, Butthoarder awoke from his sleep when he felt a small, tight toot slip out of his butthole and quickly Dutch oven under the blankets. Rhett tensed up, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead at the thought of Anne waking up and smelling his atrocious anal acoustics. Rhett looked down at his upper lip, expecting Mustache to be freaking out alongside him, but he was gone.
"Damn you Mustache, where are you? I know you find your wife appalling to touch at the moment, but I need some backup if Anne wakes up".
Rhett heard a squeaking sob and saw Rattail quickly turn to the other side of the bed, shaking with salty tears. I guess she heard me, he thought, and then shrugged.
All of a sudden a fat, wet one ripped from him bumhole and Rhett pressed his hands to his mouth in shock.
"Ruu ruing RAN!"
"No, Rattail, there's not need to wake her up and tell her-"
Anne stirred, slowly opening her eyes and then her little nose twitched. She inhaled the creamy fart and then sat bolt up right in her bed, her eyes sparking, and her breath ragged.
"RHETT!"
"Anne, it was an accident! I-I…how about I take you to a foxy friskhound foxhunt?" Rhett gave a hopeful yet terrified smile as Anne unruffled her feathers and thought about all the cute little puppies that would be there.
"Anne likes puppies", she cooed.
Scorlett was lacing up her corsets, and putting on her dependz, (after having a C-section the length of her entire stomach, it rearranged to where she pees when she's excited or spooked, much like a small bugged eyed Chihuahua, or Michelle Duggar), while Lord Fenton graciously undid her corsets as soon as she finished and threw her across her massive bed. They played hide the salami, plowin' cheeks, the horizontal mambo, and the vertical joyride. After a good 8 hours, Lord Fenton finally satisfied, laid next to her in bed. She was asleep and been asleep for the past couple hours, he sighed with please in his funsie onesies, and smoked a pack of cigarettes.
"My goodness Fenton! I gotta get going if I'm gonna make it to see the foxy frisk hound hunt in time!"
She rolled out of bed and got dressed as quickly as possible. She knew Rhett would be makin' an appearance, in what she hoped, would be a red, suede suit, so she briskly dressed to match. In a red suede dress, ruffles billowing off her shoulders, bows attached to the front of both her breasteses, red dyed peacock feathers sewn into her sleeves, and a tiny, itsy top hat the shade of the embarrassment she'd have to face when Anne realized she stole HER itsy top hat. Yes, one of these days Scorlett would have to come to the realization that she was a kleptomaniac.
She left Lord Fenton lying in bed, although he had already slapped her ass with anticipation for the next round of topless boob boxing with a girl, Mary, she briefly met a couple days before.
"Ohh myy why aren't you just a sly devil you are!" She grinned widely showing off sharp little shark teeth. Then ran to hop on the giant Clydesdale. All the while Lord Fenton's pumping pole of penile power stood in attention while she jiggled out the door, then it drooped in disapproval when there wasn't a fun play toy at hand.
She made it just in time; Rhett was already atop his brilliant steed, the depressed looking white horse he bought from fair. His red suit shown like a bloody tampon in the sun, his bullet hole chin especially black and deep as Davey Jones' locker.
"Why hello Rhett" she flashed a toothy smile.
"Why, Scorlett, don't you just love following me around these days?" he tried to smile, but she could tell he was annoyed and slightly frightened with her.
"No, it's strictly a coincidence", she snapped, too soon after his words for him to believe her.
They chatted for a minute longer until they released the hounds with the shrill horn of a trumpet! And then they were off.
Once the hounds were released, chasing the poor innocent fox, Scorlett's horse bolted off like a bat out of hell, but Rhett's horse was still faster, inevitably trying to get away from both Scorlett and his rider, Butthoarder. But to no avail…of course.
Scorlett looked rather smug on her horse, pretending to know what she was doing, not aware of how utterly retarded she looked. The horse bucked and continued riding beneath her, desperate to get to the fox before even the dogs could, but Butthoarder was still in the lead.
Scorlett's such an assclown, Mustache thought to himself, observing how Scorlett was still smirking proudly as her horse looked terrified beneath her. Finally in the last run, Scorlett passed Buthhoarder and shot him a satisfied toss of the head. Butthoarder grinned, planning on passing her in the next minute. He wanted that fox so he could stuff it and hide it in his mother's closet. He giggled as he imagined her blood curdling scream when she opened her drawers to see a tiny, snarling fox waiting for her.
But while Scorlett was staring at the dumb grin on Rhett's face, with her own shit grin spread wide across her face, a tiny twig popped out in front of her. She tried to dodge it, but it was too late, for when she turned around to see where she was going the tiny stick flicked her face and knocked her clean off her horse and back nearly ten feet. Rhett passed her for a minute but then figured he should go back to help her, since no one else was. Mustache didn't feel so generous.
