Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp.

Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. Womp. went the big ghastly

fat lady's thighs.Betty was being chased by the big ghastly WompMonster, who desired her cellulite between his fleshy jowls.Betty screamed as the WompMonster quickly caught up

With her on the highway. All the swerving destroyed her truck. She survived, miraculously, and was not ticketed. The WompMonster was ticketed. He lost hid driving license. Oh, well

She went on to become a state senator and then an associate justice of the state supreme court. The WompMonster lost his job at the Destruction Derby because walking didn't fit the

sort of destruction the Derby was looking for. The WompMonster envied that woman who became justice of the supreme court, and left his job and dreams behind in that fiery wreckage.

Let's face it: the WompMonster was tired of womping. He wanted to own a yarn shop somewhere in Scotland, where he could knit amusing little booties in pale hues and clever shapes.

The WompMonster's latest creation was little Christmas-themed elf booties for dogs. He'd had great success on Etsy and knew it was time to move to a brick and mortar storefront.

It worked a charm. Sausages flew through the air in parabolic arcs, straight into the open mouths of hungry patrons. The rest, they say, is history. Well, almost...

A swiftly propelled sausage landed in a patron’s mouth and ended up lodged in his windpipe. The Heimlich maneuver couldn’t save him. The propelled-sausage business died that day.