The Perverted Life and Fucked-Up Death of Petey the Pedophile Hemophiliac Penguin

Now, because the time has come and it must be told ... I am giving you (drum roll please) the story of Petey, the Pedophile Hemophiliac Penguin (TA-DA!)

Now don't get me wrong, I like critters more'n the next Gal, but for some darn reason or 'nother the beasties I get involved in seem to have a propensity for dyin' in the most violent and degrading manner! I know, it sounds funny, but it's funnier than you stupid assholes even think. I need only remind you of Robert the Randy Robin who went simultaneously through an industrial dryer fan, my food processor, and a lawnmower; Bakersfield the Bellowing Badger who managed to get electrocuted while his eyes were poked out by dull knitting needles while his severed penis was stuffed down his throat, or Oswald the Ostentatious Ocelot whose demise was so horrifying that I and half the patrons of George's are still undergoing counseling.

Anyway, one of my old Sex Slaves, Bart, works at a local zoo, and he was having a peck of trouble with a certain Penguin, who kept on raping the young Penguin chicks. His name was Petey, and he had no interest in adult Penguins, but he would bugger the young 'uns from dusk till dawn. Now, Bart got a good chuckle at seein' old Petey force himself on Penguin youth after Penguin youth, but it turns out that some fucks in some church group or other complained about the serial rapist Penguin and Petey's days were numbered - he either had to have a new home, or he was going to be fed to the other Penguins in a kind of fucked-up Satanic ritual that zookeepers get into (they like nothing more than feeding a species to itself - go figure).

So Bart called me up one night.
"hey Cooter, how's it hangin?"
"That's MISTRESS to you, worm!" I quickly corrected him.
"Oops, sorry, Mistress, yeah, I remembered that you have a thing for serial rapists?"
"No, it's killing hitchhikers. But tell me more; I'm intrigued ..."

And so It Came to Pass that Bart told me about Petey and his troubles; I was immediately enthralled and told Bart that I would take Petey off his hands and try to keep his appetite sated with some kind of young avians - I seriously doubted I could score a regular diet of Penguin chicken, but then I wasn't really sure.
"Just one more thing, Coot" Bart hesitated on the other end of his faggy cell phone.
"What, worm?"
"Petey's a hemophiliac and you have to inject him with Penguin Platelets to keep him alive."
"No problem," I lied.

So not only did I have to provide him with a steady diet of young Penguins to sodomize, but I also had to fulfill a vampire-like craving for fresh blood. Obviously, after having been involved with Jeff, I loved a challenge, so I decided I'd step up to the plate(let) and bat away until I got tired and killed the fucking bird.

...Anyway, to cut a long story short, Petey and I got along just fine for a while. I found that I could run down to the river and drain the blood out of a duck and it closely approximated Penguin blood to inject into Petey's junkie-like veins. The buggerin' of the youth was pretty fucked up - I found that if I put some Tequila in with his platelets he couldn't tell a Penguin Chick from a month-old chicken and he'd bugger away, then I'd have some fresh chicken for dinner. If I left him a little too sober I'd have to put on my Japanese School Girl outfit to deliver him the chicken in.

Anyway, we got along fine for a couple of months. I was using my coffee grinder as a centrifuge to separate out the duck blood - I'm a pretty damn good amateur phlebotomist amongst my many talents. But one night I was entertaining Roger and his Webelo in the Parlor and I didn't play close enough attention to Petey the Pedophile Hemophiliac Penguin. When I plugged into his vein I accidentally left it attached to my Juiceman juicer and when I came back in the room Petey had been turned into a couple quarts o' Penguin Juice. I quickly made Roger and the Webelo a pitcher of Bloody Marys and everything was hunky dory.

So the moral of the story is eventually someone will consume you, unless you consume them first. But don't let the misguided perceptions get in the way of true love like between Roger and his Webelo or Petey and all the Penguin chicks he sodomized and I ate.