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[prev] the big toy shop Little Miss Putrid arrived, after a flight from London in which she consumed more alcohol in 24 hours than a drag queen from the Albury would in a month of DIVA awards nights. She loved her new outfit, but wasn't sure if she should wear it in public. "I'm having severe second thoughts about this, darl," said a worried Little Miss Putrid. "Piker, piker, piker!" screamed Little Miss Cocksucker. "We've made your costume bitch, now you're gonna wear it." "I'll look tragic." "No, you're Putrid. Little Miss Tragic is leading the Marching Boys. Get here and I'll put you over my knee girl. You're gonna wear it!" Little Miss Putrid was convinced. Little Miss Lost The Plot had no such qualms. When she saw her new costume she got so excited she flapped and flapped and flapped until she was practically airborne. The Day of the Big Parade had arrived. However, before the Little Misses could don their lovely new costumes, they had to perform their democratic duty. "An election on the night of the Big Parade? What gives!" queried Little Miss Putrid, who had her own Queen back home. Little Miss Drug-fucked thought it was one extra thing she didn't need in her day, as she laboriously numbered her ballot to put Little Miss Creant from the Circus of God last, since he was again praying for hell, fire and brimstone to rain down on their parade. "This is definitely not my type of cubicle," she thought. The Little Misses were vaguely worried, because the incumbent government of Little Miss Arrogant was under threat from Little Miss Lazarus with a Triple Bypass. But still, the Big Parade was more important.
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Little Miss Lost the Plot |