Attack of the Bug-Eyed Coat Hanger: Difference between revisions

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Goody Two-Shoes was undergoing tickle torture as the coat hanger held her in place while pushing her bellybutton and tickling her loins, midriff, armpits, and kneepits with its now-dull fingers. It spotted me, discarded the alien, and approached me saying “stick your thumb up her nose, you melon-farming worthless thumb-sucker!” A rack of DC-15A laser rifles caught my eye. I grabbed one of those fancy sci-fi weapons, locked and loaded, and blasted away. The coat hanger appeared to be shocked by the loss of its arms.
 
Goody Two-Shoes, having recovered from her stimulating experience, cowered to the controls of her flying saucer and flew back to Earth via hyperspace. The floor below the coat hanger opened to let it fall into a forest to get shot from every corner by hunters with what sounded like Remington Model 7600 rifles and Arminius HW-357 revolvers. This caught the attention of the US Air Force as they sent Lockheed AC-130 gunships, Boeing F-15 Eagle fighters, Northrop Grumman B-2 Spirit stealth bombers, Boeing AH-64 Apache attack helicopters, and Sikorsky CH-53E Super Stallion helicopters to shoot us down. Fortunately, this unidentified flying object didn’t come unarmed.
 
Me sittingSitting right next to herGoody Two-Shoes at the controls for what only felt like hours gave Goody Two-Shoesme the nerveirresistible urge to ask me if I could massage her armslegs, legsarms, and abdomen while; her shipskin was onvery autopilotsmooth modeand warm. SoShe Ididn’t did;mind herthis skinat wasall verydue smoothto andher warmsadomasochistic nature. Goody Two-Shoes actually had the heart to beamteleport me back back to Hixson before zooming back to infinity and beyond via hyperspace, never to be seen again. My experience with that cute alien would be best described as a “Big-Lipped Alligator Moment;” a bizarre situation that comes right the heck out of nowhere, has little to no bearing whatsoever on the plot, is way over-the-top in terms of ridiculousness (even within the context of this creepypasta), and no one ever speaks of it again after it happens.
 
Anyway, I walked back into my house to see that my dad was alive and well, except for the bandages on his head where his cysts used to be. As I went into the library room to do some research on dealing with living furniture, I heard my dad cussing his head off out of frustration, followed by a choking noise. I rushed into the family room to see what the matter was. I wish I hadn’t.
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