affame_le_geant_broken_ice fyn gula puppertwinkle, stuck fast in the iron grip of proina's scissored clawhands, screamed bloody hell and with teeth bared, tried to bite her. knowing him as you do, you might think his vociferation was a typical response, that is, primal; a last ditch effort to escape imminent death. it wasn't. something amazing had happened to this once fragile-hearted chihuahua. his reaction to proina's bullying was actually warrior-like, all fucking tough-ass. he was a dog with a mission, boffden's newly appointed leader, and attacked as he was by this god/monster, he would fight until his tiny lungs could no longer inhale life-giving oxygen. however, desire to win is not always enough, especially when the opponent outsizes and outweighs you by ridiculous proportions. is there such a thing as justice and equality? proina was a guillotine poised and ready to fall. perhaps you remember how proina had a frozen pond encircling her movements, like the earth orbitng the sun? it is upon theis slippery surface that she threw puppertwinkle, albeit with reckless abandon and cackling sneer. snidely whiplash would have watched this on the telly and taken notes so fast his writing would later be illegible. puppertwinkle instinctively shut his eyes as he smacked the thin ice. weighing only two pounds, he initially bounced, his stick legs splaying straight out like bambi in the immortal disney classic. whether the ice eventually yielded to the constant pressure of his presence, or proina simply sucked her inward energy as to weaken the surface, it was impossible to know, but what happened was this: C R A C K ! ! ! ! ! it sounded like something was being torn apart, something that no one wanted, just for the fun of destroying it. and then the frigid water underneath the broken shards of ice swallowed puppertwinkle as if he was a stone that a lonely schoolboy had tossed in an effort to bring his afternoon boredom to a much anticipated finale. down he sank, so fast he had no time whatsoever to even panic. 021017 what's it to you? who go blather from