Story Jam 1.5 Doorbell Doo-Doo

Bing bong! Farkling Weebler dropped his badger and scooted over to the front door, nudging the Jell-O out of the way with his good foot. “Good foot, my ass,” thought Farkling to himself. “There better be something good on the other side of the door to make me suffer like this.”

Holding his bad foot with his good hand, Farkling surged through the door to find nothing but bellowing cows. And Farkling impossibly held his good foot with his bad hand and long-jumped over the steaming pies. And finally he reached the door, opened it, and there it was -- the flaming brown bag of dog doo.

Like a weenie, Farkling stomped away until an enormous smoky shit stench permeated the foyer. What was the joke about ten pounds of something in a five-pound bag?

The bag explodes -- or five pounds oozes out the sides.