Yes, This Is How I Spend My Free Time

I posted this a couple of Easters ago,  but had enough fun with it that I'm bringing my Peep drama back.  Hope you enjoy!

War and Peeps

by Lucy Woodhull

Every year the same thing. Damn the humans and their thirst for Peep blood! Er, marshmallow! Captain Peeter Peecker of the Twenty-First Peep Infantry spit out the last of his cigar and sauntered to the stair banister. Usually he was able to fight the human scourge with a clear head, but this year, this year was different. This year, this year they had captured his girl, Peeptunia.

"C-c-captain Peecker?"

"Yeah, Private Peenaski?"

"The kitchen is clear. I recommend we go in immediately. I heard the humans go upstairs and turn on the Barry White, sir. They should be up there for three, four minutes. Maybe less."

Peecker leaned against the cool metal rail. "Sure, Private, sure." He had seen many a Private like Peenaski. Young, eager, green. But they didn't know shit from shinola.

Peecker leaned against the cool metal rail.

Sure, war seemed glamorous at boot camp. I wonder why they call it boot camp, he thought. We can't wear boots. We have no feet.

In the real world, war was hell. H-E-double-hockey-sticks hell. He spit. Bah! He was a soldier, not a philosopher.

He had seen many a Private like Peenaski. Young, eager, green.

And today he had the most important mission of his life. He must save Peeptunia.

His Peeps assembled, he led the column down the stairs to the linoleum floor of the kitchen. Peenaski shimmied to the countertop and down again. "C-c-captain!" he panted. "I see her. She's on the chopping block!"

"Yes, I know! The human lash is long, indeed."

The Private rolled his eyes. "Um, I mean literally, sir. She's sitting on a chopping block.”

“Don’t be a dick, Peenaski.”

“Sorry, sir. Several other of our Peep brethren are there, too. They... they didn't make it."

“Don’t be a dick, Peenaski.”

Peecker sneered heavenward. What kind of God would allow such brutality? Surely not one made of food coloring and... whatever else Peeps were made of.  He spit. Bah! He was a soldier, not a theologian.

He scaled the cabinets and struck a dashing pose against the dishwasher. Once that was complete, he crept across the counter.

"Peeter!" Peeptunia called. Her shining pink skin looked like sweet sugar candy to his hungry eyes, er, eye. "Peeter! Help me!"

Hurrying to his girl's side, Peecker gasped to behold the carnage he beheld. So many good Peeps - murdered in the evil humans’ game. To what purpose? Many Peeps were killed by the giant ones, yes -- ripped head from body and eaten. But this slicing and dicing? It was butchery! It was the kind of sick experiment that had cost him his eye back in Easter '08.

It was butchery!

Peeptunia clung to him, quivering. "Let us escape, my big, strong Peecker!"

The Captain flexed his 'mallow and called, "Private Peenaski!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Take Peeptunia to safety. I'll meet up with you back at base. I need to investigate what treachery is afoot, er, aPeep here."

"No! No, Peeter, you must come with us!" Peeptunia clung to him. Peecker gave his best chick a long, hard kiss. Reluctantly, he let the Private drag his protesting girl to safety.

Peecker gave his best chick a long, hard kiss.

No more time for mushy stuff.  He was a soldier, not a porn star.

Peecker crept along the sink to the far side of the kitchen. He could see something in the distance -- maybe a dish of some sort. I have a bad feeling about this, he thought. Or maybe that was the goulash he had for lunch.

He pressed on.

At the edge of the plate he took a deep breath. Rolling up to the very front of his marshmallow belly he saw... he saw... some really bad shit. [Ed. note -- He’s a soldier, not a writer. Give the guy a break.] He yelped and drew back in horror. Then... voices!

"Wow, Ricky. That was an amazing two-minute romp."

"You were wonderful, Lucy. When'd you get so flexible? You're the most beautiful woman in the world, and that's counting Angelina Jolie."

"I know. It’s a burden. And now my darling, I have something to show you."

The humans approached Captain Peecker. He dove behind the platter of slaughter.

"Voila!" said the female one. "It's Peepshi! Peep sushi."

Rolling up to the very front of his marshmallow belly he saw... he saw...
some really bad shit.

"Awesome! Lucy, you're the best wife ever. You're never annoying or anything. And you'd never make me dress Peeps in costume and take infantile pictures of them."

"Of course not. What kind of freak spends Easter morning doing that?"

They began to feast upon the eviscerated bodies. Peecker could do nothing but wedge himself under the edge of the serving dish in terror.

"Look at this one," said the man.

Peecker looked up in slow motion. It was happening -- just like his recurring dream, the one that always ended with him dressed in drag and singing "La Marseillaise." The man's humongous hand gripped Peecker's helpless body. Peecker struggled, but could not fight the monstrous strength.

"Uh, oh. I guess I missed one," said the woman.

"Not for long." The male one laughed, the sound more menacing than Peeptunia giving him a marriage ultimatum. Peecker flew through the air for one split second, every fiber of his marshmallow wobbling in dreadful anticipation, until CHOMP!

The end.