Giant Fuddlerlumping Wheezlefats!

Mr Pickering had only heard about them in digests and trade magazines, but he had never seen one, and here they were, jumping about his back porch, flying and whaking into one another with resounding wet slaps and falling back onto the now slimy woodwork. Their fur was slicked back like a 1950s pompadour, and they had all the grace of a sccindilopian ballerina, which given their size and innate sense or rollerey was not very graceful indeed. Now, Mr Pickering was standing dumbfounded, watching the spawn of these brilliant, gelationous hairy creatures as they smacked one another beside his home. Needless to say, their coupling had given him somewhat of a rise. A thrill of the unknown and extasy compelled him, he threw open the door and his arms, amazed and overjoyed to be amoung these creatures he had only read about, opening his mouth to exclaim his delight to the entire neighboorhood, nay, THE WORLD! And then, so it was, one of them heaved itself onto Mr Pickering's plump face, its jellylike pseudopods stretching around his bald little scalp, and it was then he realized that the Giant Fuddlerlumping Wheezlefats of Hocule 3 had not come to his backyard to spawn. They had come for - His scream was choked as the Wheezlefat's thick, tentacle shoved its way roughly into his open mouth, and he could not pry the thing off of him before the small fanged appendage had forced its way to his spine and latched itself onto his lower medulla, pulling....

His wife merely arched an eyebrow at her husbands new penchant for snails, and rapidly growing back hair that even her most skilled Brazillian beauticians could do much about. She sighed as he ate, once again, the entire contents of the kitchen, raving madly about the upcoming battles against the Macatianious  Mullywhumps, and her wrinkled hand reached for the receiver to call the asylum once again.

But out of the corner of her eye she saw a hairy lump of jello giggle.