Cloacajack

by mathspook777

Applejack has a cloaca. An enormous, supernatural cloaca that fits just about anything. You can even sleep in it (the bed is near the library). This anthology resembles comedy. But no matter how low your expectations are, you will be disappointed. The stories are more dumb, gross, and juvenile than you could possibly imagine. You will want to stop reading, but it will be too late.

4. Room at the Inn

The travelers were tired and footsore when they reached the inn. The woman, who was pregnant, groaned as she eased herself to the floor. The man, whose clothes suggested he was a tradesman, perhaps a carpenter, spoke with the innkeeper. "I have no room," said the innkeeper. "I'm full because of the census."

"We've been traveling for days," said the man. "Is there nowhere we could shelter?"

"Even my stable is full," said the innkeeper.

"My wife will give birth soon, and our travel has been hard. We would accept even the humblest, most lowly accommodations."

"Really? Then come with me."

The woman, who was barely a teenager, groaned again as her husband helped her to her feet. The innkeeper led them to the stable. The man asked, "I thought you said there was no room even in your stable?"

"I did." The innkeeper stopped behind an orange mare with a blonde mane. "It is good that you have no shoes. She doesn't like people wearing shoes inside her."

"Inside her?" asked the man. "Do you mean—?"

"Yes, I do." The innkeeper whisked aside the mare's tail. "There is room in her cloaca."

The man looked to his wife, who nodded. He began negotiating the price. The woman, too tired to sit on the floor again and too tired to keep standing, entered the mare. The cloaca was richly decorated. The floor felt like a squishy rug, and the woman sighed with pleasure as she wiggled her aching toes. There were shelves of codexes, though when she took one down and inspected it, the manuscript was illuminated entirely with pictures of apples. She sank into a chair made of acacia wood and rested.

Soon after her husband joined her, she felt birth pangs. She began pacing to lessen the pain. He asked, "Shall I fetch a midwife?"

She shook her head. "The baby is coming too quickly."

A muffled voice called out, "Ah can git ya there if ya want!"

The voice was so unexpected that the woman's womb stopped, afraid to let her baby out. Her husband called back, "Who's there?"

"Name's Applejack! And yer in my cloaca!"

"You're the mare?" asked the woman.

"Yep! Who're y'all?"

"I am Joseph," said the man, "and my wife is Mary."

"Funny names," said Applejack. "Don' seem to mean anythin'. Anyway, y'all want a midwife? Ah don' really like to break outta my stall, but Ah done it before."

The birth pangs rose in Mary again. She squeezed her eyes shut and hissed through her teeth. When the contraction was over, she said, "Applejack? Have you ever borne a child?"

"Yep! Was a bit embarrassin', seein' as my brother's the father. We just pretend she's our little sister."

"Can you—will you—talk me through it?"

"Sure can, sugarcube!"

So Applejack helped Mary give birth to a son. They had no crib, and Ikea wasn't open that late, so Joseph put the manger from the stable inside Applejack's cloaca, and Mary laid the infant in it. Soon shepherds arrived in the stable seeking the Messiah. And because of what they saw in Applejack's cloaca, they left glorifying and praising God.