Pippin the tumerous Schnauzer - Christmas special

Pippin the tumerous Schnauzer - Christmas Special

It was Christmas Eve in Ashford, God never visited this place, it was on a flood plain, and for a good reason, but all the same, it was Christmas, Sue had put up modest decorations, nobody would see them, both her parents were long dead, probably just dust now, she had no children, a sister who had moved to New Zealand and never kept in touch, but all the same Sue would always get excited this time of year(as if by some chance Santa would deliver her a couple of bouncing Baby boys, no chance love, he might have knocked her up if she was the last delivery and he was rosy cheeked from all the whiskey and mince pies, his powerful hands forcing her face down o'er the bed driving her pugsy pale face in the mattress and blowing through that huge moustache and rocking the whole bed as he delivered it to her hard and fast before wheezing to a shuddering climax and delivering an old load right over everything and bellowing out the ending in the manner of Brian Blessed before adjusting his huge belt buckle and hoisting his comedy sized red velvet trousers up and over his tubby member. The fact that she had even thought this sickened her but she was lonely, old and desperate, unbeknownst to her, Santa would not be visiting Ashford, too many power lines, he wanted to give the gift of Christmas not spend his last days dying of leukaemia in Lapland for Christ's sake.
Sue had enjoyed a few glasses of port and had enjoyed listening to some old classic Whitney Houston and was really rather tipsy, Pippin was sitting on his basket, his little terminally ill drawn face peeping over the top of the basket and just watching Sue pom pomming along to the hits, even as a dog, he was really quite embarrassed for her, the moment skidded to an end when Pippin had a gargantuan convulsive fit and twitched about like an eighties body popper being electrocuted, and having an eppy, this was it he thought, a little bit of tongue showing through gritted teeth and fang. Sue ran towards her beloved pet with abandon but wrapped one of her spiny legs around the coffee table, it was heavy and rather dear and so sent the poor cow flying through the air like she had been shot with an elephant gun, and fouled by Roy Keane, her arms trailed woefully at her sides, she had to time to steady her fall, fortunately the only thing to soften her landing was the stricken twitching beast, her shapeless and ungainly skull cracked into the poor animal and made an embarrassing crack, she rolled over, every emotion was going through her, and she let out one of them wails (like in part 3 when the only chance she ever had with a fella ended under the wheels of a large car). Pippin had stopped shaking and convulsing, she was sure she had killed him and her face went up to the sky and contorted like a pre shit arsehole, she was just about to scream at god himself when the mutt came back to life, the unplanned face butt actually had stopped the fit and saved the dog from a horrid death, Sue was still shaking, baffled, was this to be the remedy to any future fits? She couldn't bring herself to touch Pippin, she simply stared at him in shock and disbelief. Pippin slowly came round, fixed on Sue and pulled a face like the Bruce Willis hard man face in Die hard and called her a fuckin interfering bi ped cunt, (in dog) once again, his journey to Canine Elysium was sullied by the clumsiest sexually devoid lump that was his owner.
After about 40 awkward minutes Sue returned to the sofa and poured herself a stiff port (this was to be the only stiff thing that came Sues way, not unless that darned mutt popped his clogs and went rigger on her lonely ass) Pippin had gone back to sleep, Sue had gone from Tipsy to a little drunk (or squiffy as she would no doubt call it) end eventually fell asleep on the sofa, Christmas Eve slowly twinkled into Christmas day, and hordes of excited little kiddies awoke to sacks of presents, couples rolled over for that extra special Christmas suck n fuck, and everyone in the world was happy, and united in the spirit of Christmas, armed East African machete wielding bandits downed tools and rejoiced in the togetherness of Christmas, nobody died, nobody got cleaved, bomb makers in the Yemen ceased their terrible trade and gave every infidel the day off, Chinese Snake head gangs put pillows in the backs of lorries for the hundreds of soon to be cockle pickers and made their hellish ride a little bit more comfortable and even piped through heart FM (where available), West End woofters thought twice about shooting their knowingly aids riddled sex piss up the poopers of popper popping confused young men, oh, and it snowed, all over the world, everywhere was beautiful, but Ashford, where a sad lonely syntactic fuck pig of a woman woke up with her sick dying dog and a huge bruise the shape of Eritrea on her leg.