(*words in bold are the submissions*)
"Un-fucking-believable!" he yelled, running after the speedy fowl.
"What's got you in such a tizzy?" she asked, coming around the side of the coop. "Your idea of hypnotizing chickens not working out?"
He quit running and looked her over. "Nope, 'fraid not. What's on your agenda for today?"
She pulled out the slim notebook she always carried, looking over her to-do list. "Exfoliate my skin, done. Flagellate Mr. Simms, done. Find new derogatory term for white people...man, stuck on that one."
"Xanthochroi?" he offered.
"Not bad enough. You hungry? I'm going for sushi."
"I'd love to, but all this running has been chafing my ampallang," he moaned, rubbing his crotch in a most un-attractive way.
At that moment, in a superb display of defenestration, Mr. Simms came crashing through a window. In his mouth could be seen the remnants of her money. She sighed heavily. "Well, so much for sushi...looks like it's nachos instead. Maybe I could eat them with chopsticks anyway," she turned and looked at him seductively, and in a mellifluent voice purred, "unless you can think of something better to have for lunch."
He was not taking the bait, though, He stuck his thumbs in his ears, waggled his fingers, and danced about yelling "PorkporkporkporkporkporkEEEEEEEEELS!!!!"
"She turned away. "Humph. I've lost my appetite now. I'm going back to my horticulture studies."
He jogged along beside her, sniffing. "Too many nitrates in your vagina again?"
She stopped, hands on her hips. "Oh, fabulous. You've completely flipped, haven't you, you fuzzy-lap-flounder."
"Pickle-weasel!" he shouted back.
She leaned forward until she was right in his face. As loud as she could, she screamed back, "Double-meat-crotch-critter!"
He laughed. "Not bad, hun. Ok, seriously, what bodaciously succulent plant has got your attention this time?"
She looked at him crookedly. "Just some weeds that violate normal adherence to their phylum classifications, why do you want to know? Planning some new insult?"
"Nope, they're more fun when they're completely extemporaneous. But enough of this witty banter...I've got some pumpernickel inside, if Mr. Simms didn't eat it, too...want some?"
She couldn't believe how he could be a bastard one second and a gentleman the next. She threw her hands up as she walked away. "You're as bad as those damn monkeys!!"
"Nah, I never flung poo at you. Come on, I'm sure it's fine. Simms doesn't like the taste of the burlap bags I keep it in. No good? I know...COFFEE!!!"
She stopped and turned. "With crumbcake?"
He grinned. "As soon as we have consummated the making of beverages, it would be my pleasure to serve you in any way you wish."
She smiled. "Don't be so obsequious. I'd prefer you blunt, like a hammerhead." One day she'd kill him, she knew...but not today.
He knew that though. Tightening his sphincter, he led her into the house.