“Once more around, pilot,” said Vince Mancini. Looking out the window of his private jet, the sight of his company’s factory looked even more lovely since he’d successfully paid off those EPA agents to allow continued dumping of toxic waste into the surrounding swamp. In his mind’s eye, the smoke it belched glittered like the diamonds with which he adorned his tiny Thai wife. Yes, life was good, until a colossal “RIBBIT” erupted from below and an enormous, pink tongue shot out of the tree line, snatching the jet out of the sky like some massive metal mosquito.
[98 words]
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