Prose of the Spicy Forg
At the stroke of dawn the frog did see, a wife of fire born was she, unto guy fiery named was he, as seen for his hair as flame cast unto the sea.
The frog did say to her forsoothe, the man of fire belongeth to me, so can have him not you wench for free.
And hoppeth till dawn this paul has gone until the fire does quench.
"Who wrote this?" A frog named Paul slammed the fiction down, astounded, "Where are we? the middle ages? This is too good. Why am i here?"
Guy Fieri's wife pounced on her bed, "It's from another author. Darling, read the other page!"
the frog nodded, reading what his other student had written.
Guy Fieri's wife got out a Yu-Gi-Oh! Card. "I'm placing down my trap card for thoust arrogance you mere insignificant frog!"
However, before the trap card could be activated, the frog got out a glock.
"No one messes with Paul on a monday. No one."
Guy Fieri's wife was gone in seconds, and the frog just smiled, tipping his rather ravishing fedora hat, blowing his pistol like he blew his frog husband's dick last Wednesday.
Oh, what a life it be to be a frog. Or so he thought, Guy Fieri stepped on the frog, squishing it. And thus, the cycle of life became truth. What a tragic tale, you realise, knowing both the main characters are dead because they're fucking idiots, who the fuck gave the frog a gun????? Like bro wtf are you doing, you're not writing an alpha male mpreg fanfic for fucks sake.
This piece of writing is very self critical, and will explode. :)