Stone Ovaries and Bowling Balls Trapped in Beautiful Prodigy World

By Douglas J. Ogurek

Scandalous dink and linguistic acrobat Stone Ovaries joins Kevin and his preternatural balls as they attempt to escape Beautiful Prodigy World while evading Pizzazzster and her deadly allies.

 

Will Stone Ovaries betray her principles and compliment Pizzazzster's sparkly leggings? Will Kevin make it to The Spice Hall in Mindmush

• Language: English
• Publisher: Planet Bizarro
• Release date: Nov 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781915546487

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Copyright © 2023 by Douglas J. Ogurek

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [e-mail].

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Ash Ericmore

1st edition 2023

Contents

Title Page

1.A Two-Ply Emergency in Freshy Galds Market

2.A Glittery and Juicy Confrontation with Pizzazzster

3.A Portentous Meeting with a Hot Sauce-Obsessed Crapstract Artist Who Wouldn’t Understand the Word Portentous

4.A Battle with Would-Be Mommies

5.Hostilities with Angry Retirees and Extra Nutty Little Hickories, Hee Hee Hee

6.Skirmish with a Spandexterous Duo

7.Kale Smoothies, Angry Melons, and Speeding Chips in the One-Up the Joneses Department

8.Wunderkind Verification Helicopter Mommy Invasion

9.An Instrumental Interlude in the Prodigy Promoter Department

10.Snacksassins Attack in Dreaded Nurture Instillment Department

About the Author

Other Titles from Planet Bizarro

Stone Ovaries and Bowling Balls Trapped in Beautiful Prodigy World

Douglas J. Ogurek

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Planet Bizarro Press

A Two-Ply Emergency in Freshy Galds Market

Stone Ovaries tossed a jumbo pack of BillowSoothe toilet paper onto the register. Go, go, go. Fuck’s sake. Come on. Let’s go! Emergency here.

Ma’am . . . The cashier, whose chapped lips looked like they’d been run through a garbage disposal, pointed. We have restrooms right over there.

One ply. You only got one ply TP—that’s like me wiping with your lips. Stone Ovaries hunched over and walked in place. Check this through or I’ll rip off your lips and wipe my butt with them.

The cashier shrugged and scanned the toilet paper. That’ll be nineteen ninety-seven. Would you like to donate to our children’s charity today?

Here. Give twenty for the charity. Stone Ovaries threw him two twenties. Anything left over, that’s a little somethin’ for you. Save up for a vat of petroleum jelly to tame that beast you got on your mouth. She lurched toward the restrooms.

Ma’am, just one second, ma’am. The cashier held a phone toward Stone Ovaries. We encourage anyone who donates to say, ‘I support children’s charities.’ He pointed up. It plays over the system.

Stone Ovaries grabbed the phone and shouted, CUUUUNT. The loudspeaker carried the comment throughout the store.

On the way to the restrooms, Stone Ovaries snatched a toy wand from a girl and snapped it in half.

An elderly woman drenched with enough face powder to make a small beach leaned on a flower-patterned cane. Hey, hey, hey. That’s not very—

Stone Ovaries waved the wand halves. "Abracrapdabra." She booted the cane. The woman shrieked and fell.

When the cane landed, it tripped an elegantly dressed woman. Her champagne bottle shattered on the floor, and she fell into the glass.

That’s intoxicaning. Stone Ovaries took out a toilet paper roll.

The felled woman held up bloody palms and made a noise like a circular saw cutting through steel.

Don’t look at me. Stone Ovaries pointed at the old woman. Flower Powder did it.

Flower Powder squirmed on the floor. Ehh. That’s my flower cane.

"More like flower pain. Stone Ovaries burst into the women’s restroom, but all the stalls were occupied. She grabbed her rear end. Faaaack! Then she tried the men’s room. Same problem. Magnificunt. Just magnificunt."

Stone Ovaries, the jumbo BillowSoothe pack beneath her arm, stumbled out of Freshy Galds Market and half ran, half stumbled to the next retail monolith: Beautiful Prodigy World. One hundred and fifty thousand square feet of child-worshipping, mommy-reassuring detestation, but Stone Ovaries’s butt was on the brink of exploding. She whispered, Fack, then entered.

A Glittery and Juicy Confrontation with Pizzazzster

During her stumbling, moaning trek to the restroom—it was in the back of the store—Stone Ovaries knocked over a Princess Petunia Quartzy display, stole a kid’s juice box, sprayed fruit punch on a girl’s white dress, and told a mommy that her boots were "ad- whore -able." She also saw a trapped bird flying through the rafters. It had flown into the store just after she entered. Frustrating.

Stone Ovaries went around the Nurture Instillment Department. She’d rather have pooped her pants than set foot in that libidinal cesspool of dolls, princesses, and all things pink and passive.

The women’s room smelled like rotting corpses in a sauna.

Stone Ovaries pooped cantor style, standing on the toilet and extending her hands. As her intestines’ contents pounded the bowl, she thought she heard a grunt. Too deep to be a woman.

After luxuriating in BillowSoothe—it felt like wiping with a super model’s cheek—Stone Ovaries came out of the stall. Fack. Don’t light a match.

A blonde looked in the mirror. Layers of sequins and sparkles smothered the rear end of her pink leggings.

Pizzazzster, said Stone Ovaries. Absolute pizzazzster.

Makeup conquered the woman’s face. She pointed at a photo pin on a tight shirt that highlighted espresso cup-size nipples. The pin showed a girl dressed as a princess. This is my daughter Allme. She designed my leggings. Aren’t they adora-dora?

M’lady, looks like you sat on a fairy. From the occupied stall came a bellow that quickly changed to a titter.

Pizzazzster sneered at Stone Ovaries’s knee-length athletic shorts. Allme’s only eight. She’s aaaallll intella-tella. What has your child designed?

My husband and I don’t have that problem. A child, I mean. And hopefully, she made fists and hit her abdomen, we never will.

Pizzazzster took from her IbestU purse a device with a tube attached to it. Allme designed my leggings herself. This, she pointed at her rear end, has thirty-two different shapes and colors.

Stone Ovaries picked up her BillowSoothe package. So does what I just made in the toilet.

Pizzazzster’s fingernails, which looked like she’d clawed a leprechaun to death, raked her glitterump. Isn’t it just aww?

Ful. Stone Ovaries dispensed soap. Pink. Absolutely dunglectable.

Pizzazzster pulled down her pants and attached the tube to a nozzle on the back of her thigh. The device made a whirring sound and sucked cellulite into the tube. Say you love them. Say you want my leggings.

I love them. Except for the parts that are pink or sparkly.

Pizzazzster held up the tube filled with glop. Say they’re glamora-mora.

Glamora-poora. Stone Ovaries thumped her abdomen. That glitterump looks best, m’lady, when you’re sitting.

Pizzazzster screamed, Allme’s the best. . . . She’ssssalented. Say you like these!

Sorry? She’s Sal and Ted?

Pizzazzster caterwauled something that combined the cry of a large oceanic creature with the screech of a power tool, then flung her thigh juice.

Stone Ovaries shielded herself with the BillowSoothe. The glop turned the entire package into glitter, which she shook from her hands. What am I supposed to do with this, m’lady? Make my a-hole shimmer?

Pizzazzster already had another tube full of butt cream.

Stone Ovaries stumbled out of the ladies’ room, but not before she hurled two more entertainingly juvenile insults. Flabulous. You’re going to give me a severe case of lipochondria.

A Portentous Meeting with