Title: 'Smur de Mur de Mur de Buggery'
Author: Not me, I didn't write it. 
Blame it on whoever suggested this ridiculous pairing. I've spent the last 
couple of hours exclaiming 'I am *not* going to write this. I AM NOT going to 
write this! No, no *no*!!!!! 

And my husband coined the title. So blame him as well.

First I write m/f, then I write this. I think I'll go back to cartoon slash. 
It's saner.

Comments to Storm9632@aol.com 

Smur de Mur de Mur de Buggery

by Sigrina

They huddled together, clucking softly to each other in terror. Who would 
save them from this knife-wielding, incoherently-babbling maniac? Where was 
the one who would come and rescue them? Where was their hero? Was this it? 
After all they'd been through, was this the way it was going to end? 

He could do this. He *could* do this. Never let it be said that he wouldn't 
help a damsel in distress. In this case, three of them. Beautiful, plump and 
tender damsels, ripe for the plucking by the murdering monster who had 
captured them. And no-one else would be willing to save them. No-one else 
would mourn their loss. The would-be hero closed his eyes, imagining the 
carnage that was sure to be wrecked in just a few moments if he failed to 
act. 

Taking a deep breath and girding his loins, he prepare to sacrifice 
*anything* in order to save those he loved...

The maniac was even more overwhelming at close quarters. And that knife was 
impossibly large. He stood, trembling, as eyes raked him, dismissing him as 
unimportant.

How *dare* he? Didn't this madman know who he was dealing with? Well, it was 
about time he learned. The hero risked his life every day. He laughed in the 
face of danger. Ha! 

But he was unable to defeat this enemy by physical strength. He had to use 
other means. He had to distract the monster so that his lovely ladies could 
escape. Now, what to do... He wracked his brains, such as they were. In the 
end, he could only think of one thing... 

Which proved, beyond a doubt that the hero was as nutty as a fruitcake. Not 
that anyone had ever doubted that for a moment. 

He tested the edge of his blade, vaguely noticing that the odd little 
creature was still there in front of him. He had long since classified the 
thing: birdlike, almost certainly inedible, therefore beneath his notice...

That was before a trembling hand slid up his thigh. 

He stared down at the hand. Which moved higher with growing confidence.

'Hello, Big Boy.'

Mmmmmm...

'Why don't you put down that nasty knife and show me a good time?'

Well, why not? It was hours yet 'til lunch. Plenty of time to get those three 
plump morsels ready. Might as well sample this odd little bird. Which, of 
course, needed preparation. Good job he'd got plenty of butter...

Unseen by their busy abductor, the three would-be victims crept away, 
throwing their rescuer limpid gazes of gratitude and sympathy. Which he was 
far too involved to even notice.

Well, as sacrifices went, that wasn't exactly too bad. Not bad at all, in 
fact. One of his better ideas.

OOPS. Someone had just noticed the disappearance of the chickens. What would 
he do now? 

Ha, he was reaching for the phone.

'Mur..de..mur..de...pizza. Mur..de..mur..de...fifteen minutes?'

Then he was reaching over for the butter... 

Oh, well, the Great Gonzo thought, it looked like he had to sacrifice himself again. It was tough being a hero...

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