Once upon a star, there was a man who lived next door to the swampy marsh.  His name was Mellow.  He was an older gentlefellow, with a pleasantly oversized belly and protruding tufts of white hair billowing out of his porous head. Try as he might, Mellow had no hope of controlling all of the slippery creatures slithering around in his marsh.

On a dim, foggy Tuesday during the brief period of eerie twilight time when the sun had not yet set, but very little light remained, Mellow cheerfully waddled out to his marsh in hopes of catching a fish to satiate his big blue belly.  Instead, he stumbled across a snake.  At this point, a normal person might recoil in fear.  Mellow, however, suffered from Forest Gump.  He stared at the snake with a glazed expression in his fat eyes.

"Howssss youssssss beeenssss doinggsssss?" said the slimy snake as he slithered slowly towards Mellow. The snake did a little shimmy to show off his sinewy slew of acrobatic circus moves.  His name was Mr. Hunderstud.

At this point, the conversation reached a halt, mostly due to the fact that Mellow was a mouth breather who connected intellectually with cockroaches.  Next,  Plaz Tikface came thundering out of the house, put a leash around Mellow's neck, and dragged that oversized piece of fecal matter right back into the house.  Plaz Tikface was always smiling, thanks to his expensive surgeon.

Mr. Hunderstud slipperily slithered back into his slimy marsh.  He sighed wearily, but still had a faint glimmer of hope to soothe his smitten skull.  He really was not a bad snake, but he had several things going against him.  The most important of these was the parrots.  The marsh created tropic like weather, and an excessive leftover supply of Cialis had seen the population of parrots increase one hundred fold.  Now, whenever Mr. Hunderstud uttered a word, the parrots played a jungle game of bungled telephone that only served to worsen his reputation.

A Prius pulled up beside the swamp and Ned Flanders stepped out.

"Good evening, Mr. Hunderstud!" announced Ned, with his chest puffed out artificially.  Ned had a bright patch of orange hair atop his snooty little head.  Mr. Hunderstud grimmaced noticeably as he nodded hello.  He knew better than to believe in global warming.   He smiled his shiny smile, than slowly shimmied back up the slippery spine of a tree, only to run smack dab into a parrot with a mustache.  Mr. Hunderstud sighed slowly again.  The hum of parrots grew audible as the sun set overhead, and darkness overcame the marsh.