Doffle the Neggfyrjukargle

There was a twinkle in Doffle's eye and spaghetti covering the ground. Yes, it was totally Flarfle Day, and Doffle the Neggfyrjukargle planned to eat the couches of every Danklestoffen in town.

Instead, he went to the Designated Frolicking Area and frolicked for a few hours. That's when it happened (or didn't happen - reports vary). Jenkins the Muzzlefro swears that a giant taco ate the livers of both ventriloquists that day, but, due to the lack of evidence, such a claim can obviously not be confirmed. I happen to know, however, that Jenkins wouldn't lie.

You see, Jenkins is a good person. He hates everything and everyone, including your mother. However, one day, a Giant Taco ate his family and threatened to digest them if Jenkins ever told a lie. In response, Jenkins cried, "My spleen is a river of hatred!" The taco almost interpreted this obvious (albeit slightly disgusting) metaphor to be, itself, a lie, and very nearly digested Jenkins' family. But then he, like, didn't. I forget why.

In any case, the ventriloquists' livers were eaten, and since Doffle happened to be three thousand feet away from the scene of the crime, the authorities naturally blamed his knapsack. Unfortunately, Doffle's knapsack was no ordinary knapsack. It was also a sponge. And, as everyone knows, sponges don't like to be messed with.

Thankfully, nobody melted in the resulting explosion, though twenty muffins were lost. It was a sad day for the muffin-eating populace. Everyone else was alright. Well, except for the woefully inept society of dung-eating Grogglestags, but that is a story for another time.

Meanwhile, Doffle's knapsack, henceforth referred to as the Dofflebag (See what I did there? Clever, eh?), was on the run, dragging Doffle behind. The authorities, however, were too bananaful to give chase, and instead enjoyed a nice, warm biscuit. The biscuit was soggy, and the authorities fought over it for months, a struggle that would later be known as the "Biscuit Wars." Twenty-two men would explode, five would melt, and three would just sort of disappear for some reason. Everyone else was tickled far beyond repair. It was, by all accounts, a massacre.

Sensing a disturbance, the Dofflebag stopped, only to realize that what it had sensed was, in fact, a Hypermole devouring the knapsack's armpit. This could not be helped, and so the Dofflebag trundled over to the nearest Blunderboulder and exploded all over it. Or maybe all around it. Near it, perhaps?

Well, it exploded in some position relative to the Blunderboulder. Doffle cried, for not only had he lost a Dofflebag in the explosion, he'd also lost a sponge. And his left arm. That kind of hurt.