Time for the totally innocent and extremely funny rated PG unedited excerpt from the upcoming Shelby the Wonder Sheep.. from Changeling Press… much to their dismay! LOL Meet the Villin, Billy the Goat! ROTFLMAO
Meanwhile…in America’s Heart Land….

Okay, not really. But in the wilds of West By-God-Virginia, there lurks an individual so heinous

<<<Gulp, spit, hiss>>>

so hideous, so twisted by fates and destiny…

“Baaa—“

Um, twisted by fate and destiny, so depraved and rotten…

“Baad! This is bad! No! This is not right!”

So… I thought there was only one sheep in this story!

<<<Narrator peeks into the secret hideout, the Barn of True Rebellion and>>>

“Baaad!”

Oh Dear.

“Why?”

William R. Trishaw sneered as he stared at his bank statement. It had to be wrong. It should not be in negative numbers!

“Leah?” he called out, his voice cracking with confusion and some anger. “Have you ever heard of something called a Z-Cube?”

William ran his fingers thought his tangled mass of gray curls and turned his square shaped pupils to the skinny teen flopped across his couch staring balefully at a TV set.

As a matter of fact, everyone who was currently in his abode was flopped somewhere like his place was a sort of downscale hostel for unwanted young adults.

Leah he loved dearly, but the girl was a leach. Sure she was one of the best mechanics to ever to hold a wrench, but the measly amount of time she actually spent in the garage did not explain the exorbitant food bill she managed to rack up.

And for all his troubles in boarding the at risk girl, all he had to show for it was an espresso machine that brewed three times faster than anything on the market. Which would be fine and great, a marketable product, if only one could understand the over four dozen steps you had to run through in order to get one decent cup of coffee. Ion free water? What the hell was that anyway? But you had better have some or the espresso machine would self-destruct in less that thirty seconds with the force of ten pounds of plastic explosives.

And there was Villie, who had the most god-awful Transylvanian accent. She was a promising intern in the field of genetics and Toxicology. But the only poison she manage to develop involved a brand of ecstasy that had little side effects and lacked the dangerous little side effect of roasting the users from the inside. That would be marketable to al kinds of research facilities, cure for depression, a treatment for post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, or even a new designer drug with an insanely high street value. But no. Villie’s great experiment made the user grow feather. Yes, big hawking green and purple feathers. And they were permanent in most of the lab mice she tried it on. There was noting better than waling into your lab after a hard day of scheming and villainy to see a parade of high purple-feathered mice hopped up on designer ecstasy. Not even really great espresso dancing through your veins could prepare you for something like that.

William had sworn that someone had drugged him with some hallucinate until Villa came in and excitedly sprayed him with the news.

Between wiping off spittle and the explanations why human trials would probably not be a good idea, William had once again almost reconsidered becoming a master villain and a purveyor of mayhem in his town.

And there was Larry.

There were no words to describe Larry. He just was.

How on earth one of the sexiest guys he had ever met was so afraid of human contact that he had to turn to inorganic love from his legions of fem-bots was beyond him.

Larry was about six feet of naturally muscled god wrapped up in golden skin and beautiful green eyes.

Larry had shaved himself bald, a look that showcased his perfectly symmetrical head and gave him a Youl Brenner in his heyday sort of swarthy mystique.

His voice was deep and mellow, enough to cause panties to peel and boxers to tent…

Unless he was screaming and running away in fear when someone got to close, or God forbid, touched him.

It was a complication in poor Larry’s life and he had tried to overcome it by creating a series of more and more life-like androids.

They walked, they talked, they moved, and apparently they fucked like a dream without any hassles of that real human being thing that drove Larry into crying fits of fear and agony.

It was bad for Larry’s personal life, but great for design and development… if Larry allowed him to sell any of his girls.

Yeah, Larry was a bit of an OCD pack rat. He had every model he had ever completed stored in perfect working condition, and he named them all Doris. So at any given time, three or more Dorises could surround him at any given moment.

How they all knew to whom he was referring to when he called him was beyond him, but Larry could have revolutionized computer tech if he actually allowed anyone to see their programming.

So Larry was content in his room of Doris, walking Doris, Doris’ with no legs, Doris’ skeletons in every stage of completion. There was Black Doris, White Doris, Latina Doris, Samoan Doris, Barley Eighteen Doris, Doris the Cougar, Doris in her prime twenty five to forty age bracket. There was forever pregnant Doris, which he found creepy as hell, lactating Doris, Doris with missile boobs, which he found strangely erotic. There was lesbian Doris, Transgendered Doris, Androgynous Doris, and Hermaphrodite Doris who had to possess the most compelling personality chips of them all. And then there were the bodyguard Doris’ in several fashion races and hair colors.

They were all filled up on Doris and Billy was just about sick of them all. Well, all except for the maid Doris, the chef Doris programmed with La Cordon Bluer recipes. He wanted an accountant Doris but William didn’t trust Larry the Letch that much. Accountant Doris would probably have a set of cooked books just to throw him off while she pilfered what little money he did have for her creators benefit.

That was one thing about the Doris’; they were loyal unto the death to their creator.

William envied that. His own minions were next to worthless.

William sighed again stared at his statements. These people he chose to help were a bigger drain on his income than all of his evil plans put together.

Maybe it was time to give up being evil?

Yeah, he thought. It was time.

He had blown through this months allowance already, stupid trust funds. And there were at least fifteen days before he would draw his usual ten thousand for the month’s living expenses.

It was expensive keeping Leah in TV dinners, Villa in exotic herbs, and Larry in Android Babe from Japan spare android parts.

It was time to go legit… right after he drove into the city and made arrangements to pay off this overdraft.

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