ONCE UPON A TIME....
There was a toro.
A toro who, in his free-time, liked to drink hard liquor and wander around in life harrassing everyone he crossed. He'd throw bottles at babies, chuck bats at old ladies, and steal candy from the corner store(which he was very good at, I might add).
His evil deeds went on and on, starting on the day he left the prison walls of a chinese torture facility(back in '06), to his untimely demise...
But we'll get to that later.
Toro had no friends. People didn't like his drunken banter, nor did they like getting whomped by bats or pelted with candy poo. Toro had lost hope in people, and himself. He had become the person he hated most,
Barbara
Streisand.
Toro woke up one day, hating life more than usual, and decided he wanted to die. He dreamt a super stylized suicide like it came straight outta Hollywood-or Afghanistan-either way, it was of super-epicness proportions. Atleast in his mind, ofcourse. He had it in his lil toro head that he was gonna stuff himself with as much nitro glycerin he could steal from the army men, run from their tanks and stealth airplanes, throw a noose over a tree in a quaint neighborhood park (disguised as a pinata, no less), and let the kids whack away. then they'd all go boom. Toro sighed in satisfaction as it played over in his head. No doubt Toro wasn't doing too good. Some might suggest he go see a therapist, but Toro would never hear of such things. He'd just scream and hack and scream some more in his dizzy stupor.
So as Toro started writing the last hate letter to Ms. Streisand, a knock sounded from his door.
Toro rose from the chair and turned to face this surprising distraction.
"...Toro?
TOROTOROTORO!!!" screamed the bewildered little toro.
The knocks did not stop.
Toro, thinking that maybe there really
were people that read minds for a living and that they had found out about his master plan, started teeter-tottering back and forth. Were they now here to take him back to his old dungeon abode? He shuttered at the thought. Toro stumbled about trying to burn all the evidence of his illegible scribblings in mureeka's fishbowl. mureeka didn't mind too much since Toro thought fish just ate their own poo-like he did. As he continued to stuff the little blazing bowl, his door opened enough for a beak to peak in.
"whoooOOOoo?" an eerie woman's voice called out.
"....TORO?!?"
"WHOOOO!"
"TORO!"
Toro had not noticed but...
He was on fire, and
not like denzel...in that one movie, but really REALLY on fire.
Toro teetered and tottered some more, until his mysterious guest flew over him like a rescue copter and hosed him down with a bucket of mop water.
Toro now sighed in relief and looked up at his new found friend-his only friend in the whole wide world-and thought to himself, "Love..."
So from then on it was no longer Toro, drunk and alone; it was Toro and Lechuza, living free and together.
It's all they needed.
It's all they wanted.
Toro gave up the liqour, random violence, and forgot all about his Hollywood post-mortem movie deals.
Remember how I said Toro died? Yeah, well, That part's comin'.
So after a much needed visit to the optometrist(for the longest time
Toro couldn't tell the difference between tequila and olive oil),
Toro y Lechuza decided to head on over to the local REDBOX to rent a nice movie to cuddle to.
They arrived outside the HEB down the street, wondering what fantastiful movies
were held for them inside that fabulous red box.
Unfortunately, there was a line. So Toro waited patiently, and took a seat on the bench.
HURRAY! HUZZAH! The moment had arrived. It was time to make a selection.
After clicking through many of the different titles, Toro came to a conclusion on what he would pick: nothing. Everything was either about dane cook being a manslut and changing his ways or an 80 foot anadoo (half anaconda, half dugong or manatee or whatever the fuck it's called).
Toro felt a familiar heat rage through his veins.
A heat that built in his heart and whizzed out his ears.
A heat that fueled a fire that spread like buttered butt cheeks.
As Toro's returning anger flooded his mind, he glanced over at Lechuza, sitting peacefully in the truck.
Toro collected himself and got his head right. After all, he had love! They didn't need no stinking movie.
Once again Toro was a happy-go-lucky little toro. He loved babies, old ladies, and even retards.
And with that he headed to his sweet pookums, awaiting his embrace.
Then a Ford Explorer ran Toro over.
The End.
