A Very Merry DF&Co. Christmas 🎄


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Official channel of the Dunning, Fink, & Co. Traveling Charivari 🎠 🥂

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Весь мир, Английский
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Yuo mean he was alive when the election was stolen from George Wallace in 1964, 1968, and 1972 and did nothing??


Just then, an Indian came barging through the train car doors, letting out a banshee-like war cry and charging the first person he saw… Glorgon. He raised his hatchet, Glorgon screamed. Suddenly, a bullet turned the warriors head into a canoe, splattering Percival Hawthorne with blood and brain. Howthorne let out a gay little noise and scurried underneath one of the benches.

Meanwhile, outside, the Comanche Warriors had sent an all out charge on the hard-working gnomes. Arrows flew by as the gnomes quickly armed themselves and returned fire. A Comanche lancer easily skewered 3 valiant gnomes and stuck them into a tree like a morbid kebab. “STAND YOUR GROUND, BOYS! STAND YOUR GROUND!” screamed Grumby, an arrow protruding from his little leg.


“I mean, we are quite a bit ahead of schedule, Grumby, just take care of it,” said Fink leaning out the window. “No use losin’ your Christmas spirit,” he continued, crushing his 5th D8 cinnamon roll. Mr Sippy laughed as Fink mumbled about the “needy gnomes” and how they “make mountains out of every mole hill.”

“Well, if you were of their stature and size, perhaps you’d see a small hill as quite the Everest as well!” Replied Mr Sippy.

Fink shrugged and continued watching the little gnomes march around in the snow carrying axes and shovels.

“Must be quite a tree…”

Just then, a high pitched war cry was heard in the forest and an arrow crashed through the window, nearly skewering Mike Fink’s nose.

“Injuns…” he said coldly.


Guests were talking about their years and their past Christmases as they listened to the rhythm of the cogs beneath them. Colton Ashford sat and talked with Old Man Jackson.

“Shame about that kid Thisslewick, huh?” Said Ashford, addressing the elephant in the room.

“Sho is, tho he wadnt much fun fo a yung mane,” replied Old Man Jackson. “Ans I don’t much think he’d come round as a believer in the nigh mane regardless…” Ashford nodded in agreement as he took another sip of his coffee.

*SCREEEEEEEEEEECH*

The train came to a sudden stop, sloshing some of Ashford’s coffee onto his shirt. “What in the HELL…?”

All the guests began to murmur about the sudden stoppage.

“Ah HELL. Ah FUCK!” Came the shrill voice of Grumby from outside the train. “There’s a damn TREE on the TRACK!”


The sun set and rose on the Power Wagon as a chugged through the magical country on its way to the North Pole. Despite the death of Thisslewick (he was not really missed, though the death was still rather shocking) the merriment mostly continued and all guests slept well, all things considered. The smell of bacon, coffee, and GRUMBY’s famous cinnamon rolls (laced with a series of novel cannabinoids) pleasantly awoke the passengers from their slumber.




Sometimes the only way out… is through


“Yessah, I’m sure you’re all a-wonderin’ how Dunning and Fink managed to get themselves into this one this time. I guess it just goes to show ya, you need to be careful who to trust — or at least make sure ya know what’s in the punch before you imbibe hehe. Oh me? Oh I’m nobody, the name’s Mr. Sippy. You may have heard of my wife. As they say, it seems I ‘live rent free’ in the consciousness of the DF-n-boys. It’s complicated. Anyhow, I gotta train to catch. Might see ya around.”*tips hat and disappears*


*NARRATOR*

Ah… what would’ve been a cozy train ride is now a classic Christie who dunnit… It appears young Thisslewick couldn’t handle a bit of Fent. Of course De Vries handled it just fine. Someone aboard the train is not who they seem… what is their motive? Who’s next?? We will soon find out…


Fink looked around, “now hang on, that punch was practically virgin so De Vries wouldn’t get sloshed!”

Dr. Von Faust approached De Vries and quickly ran his fingers across her neck, collecting an impromptu vomit sample. He brought it to his mouth and licked his lips. “Ah…” he began, “Zaire eez Fentanyl in dees vomeet.” Everyone looked shocked. “Fentanyl in a concentration dat could keel a horse… hmmm…”

“Well?? Somebody get the NarCan!” Exclaimed De Vries.

“The hell you think this is, Portland??” replied Dunning. “We don’t have any ‘NarCan!’ Fink… why’d you put fent in the punch??”

“The hell you blaming me for?? I don’t touch that shit.” Replied Fink.

“Then who the hell put fent in the punch?”


“BLEEEEEEGGHHHRRRHHFGFHHFFF-“ Thisslewick vomitted all over De Vries and the love seat. “GOOD HEAVENS,” began De Vries but was cut off by another onslaught from Thisslewick. He tried to stand but his legs fell out from underneath him and he buckled to the floor. De Vries stood up and screamed “somebody help!” Dr. Hawthorne rushed over to Thisslewick and felt for a pulse. He slowly looked up at the horrified onlookers. “He’s dead.”


“Oh this punch is really making me feel young again,” said De Vries as she leaned in close to Thisslewick. “So, you’ve never been with a woman before?”

“Uhhh… I’m not feeling so good.” Thisslewick’s glasses were getting foggy from perspiration and heavy breathing. His face was growing pale, his lips losing color.

“Don’t be like that dear, it’s really know big deal, first times. Just relax…” De Vries leaned in close to kiss Thisslewick’s virgin lips…


Gon murder that little bastard if he keeps fuckin around 🎄


Me showing up with “da bag” and demanding you hit “da bong”


Paintings by Mort Künstler


Would yuo? (Merry Christmas)
Опрос
  •   Yes
  •   No
  •   After 4 beers maybe
39 голосов




🍄


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