We announced to the world, on our Monday Listicle a couple of weeks ago, that there were certain children’s books that we would, well, like to throat punch. Now it is our turn on The Character Assassination Carousel hosted by the hilarious and industrious Nicole Leigh Shaw over at Ninja Mom Blog. Time to turn the flame up to full roast!
Robyn at Hollow Tree Ventures came before us and skillfully poached Babar. Treat yourself by checking out her post, after you’ve finished reading ours of course! Christine of Naptime Writing is up next. Can’t wait to see what book she targets.
And speaking of treats, do we have one for you!
This is a Read-Along Assassination!
To hear our voices soothe you off to Dreamland, click the media player and get started.
Erin: It’s the close of another juice-cup-filling, nose-wiping. . .
Ellen: lunch-packing, homework-crunching, dinner-slopping. . .
Erin: sports-hopping, bath-drenching day. Little Darling cuddles in for his evening storytime and hands me this little gem.
Ellen: Oh, joy! A book without words that your crazy, artsy friend gave you at your baby shower. Because nothing will top off an evening like this more than making up your own story.
Erin: I hardly have enough energy to brush my teeth tonight, but sure I can make up a humdinger for you. It only takes me 25 edits to write a blog post.
Ellen: Truth be told her story sucked, but now in the new light of day with a little sleep, she remembers how funny WE are.
Erin: So we decided to make lemonade out of this lemon.
Ellen: We present for your enjoyment…
Erin: …and ours too if we are totally honest…
Ellen: the victim of this week’s Character Assassination Carousel, Fox and Hen Together by Beatrice Rodriguez.
Erin: Henceforth to be referred to as Fried Kentucky Shore as lampooned by Erin and Ellen.
Ellen: It’s a beautiful day on Fried Kentucky Shore. Some might say it is an unusual day because Chooki has put down the bottle and is nursing her maternal instincts by rocking her egg to a techno-beat.
I knew Poultry magazine had it all wrong. Chooki is going to be one fine feathered motherclucker.
Erin: But Southern Coop Living had it all right! Look at those tacky PDA photobooth pictures on the wall! And that empty fridge.
The Foxuation grunts, “Yo, Chooki, where’s the eats?!?”
Chooki says, “We only have half a bottle of Stoli and this champagne you swiped from the wedding you valeted.”
Pauly C, the mooch, chimes, “This is bogus, man, I haven’t had anything to eat since I hit the floor after those jeigerbombs last night and landed in that pile of pretzel crumbs.
Chooki says, “You’re such a bottom feeder. I got this, you losers.”
Erin: So she does what any chick in a den of slacker boys would do. . .
Ellen: And we do mean slack-ers! The Foxuation lost the car in a gambling spree, and Pauly C used all their extra scratch for GTL…
Erin: (Look it up in the Urban Dictionary, losers.) She takes care of business herself with the only thing she has left—a fishing rod.
Ellen: I think she thought it was a whip.
Erin: I think if she had more brains she would see that Pauly C looks like a good appetizer . Just saying.
Ellen: Hold on a minute, Erin. Are you just skipping over the tender ménage à troi farewelling to the egg? Back it up for a minute and REALLY look at those tacky love pictures on the wall.
Erin: Alright, let’s humor Ellen and all look at the pictures on the wall. Wait a minute, who has this chickie been chucking?
Ellen: That‘s what I’m saying. This is no-teach-a-chicken-to-fish-and-the-menagerie- eats-forever story. It’s a “Who’s Your Baby Daddy: Fried Kentucky Style”.
Erin: I see warning signs a-flashing à la Dr. Phil. The Foxuation is the ultimate bad boy: he’s foxy, he’s needy, and he is an ever-loving ACTUAL predator.
Ellen: Run, Chooki, run! Do not walk! And do NOT take the creepy crustacean sidekick with you!
Erin: Ellen, focus your inner Winnie the Pooh, we are only the narrators.
Ellen: So let’s focus on the Springer in this story and skip to the fight scene. It all starts when FUGLY steals the fish.
Erin: FUGLY?
Ellen: Falcon of Unknown Genealogical Lineage…Y’all.
Erin: Oh, him. He drags our Chooki and Pauly C, who is hanging on her tail feathers like the backpack he is, and unceremoniously dumps them in the drink. But the Ch-itch still has her fish.
Chooki screams as the FUGLY flies away, “ You ruined my blowout , Motherclucker. It cost me a Benjamin. But, you’ve messed with the wrong chick. I won, ‘cuz I got the fish.”
Ellen: Chooki thinks she’s won, but her screeching rouses the Guido from his hole.
Erin: He is pissed because some skank slinked off with his gold chains this morning. He is coming off a bad night, and he is just looking for trouble.
Ellen: But instead he finds himself presented with a tasty snack of Filet o’ Fish with a side of nuggets and crab claws.
Erin: Little does he know that he has actually found trouble with a capital T, and it is spelled Chooki.
Ellen: Chooki is spelled with a C, but anyway, she is one tough…
Erin: Primo Poulet
Ellen: Um, are you serious? We’re going a little more street than that. This is a Jersey Shore spoof. Who needs to focus now?
Erin: But anyway, Chooki is bringing it Kentucky Shore style.
Ellen: She’s on the left.
Erin: She’s on the right.
Ellen: And she’s down. 
Erin: But not for long.
Ellen: She hog ties that mouth-breathing-chain-wearin’-gel-sloppin’ Guido…
Erin: …and shows him “Who’s Your Daddy.”
Ellen: I like how you channeled your “street” there, much better, but “Daddy?” Don’t you mean, “Who’s Your Momma?” Chooki owns this; Pauly C. was as useful as a trap door on a canoe. In fact, let’s cut that poser Pauly C out of this.
Erin: In fact, let’s cut to the disturbing ending, shall we?
Ellen: Sure. The lighting is soft.. . .
Erin: Good lord, you and your soft lighting.
Ellen: I just appreciate the scene being set. Anyway, it’s spotlighting the broken egg.
Erin: Chooki is horrified. She picks up the frying pan like a weapon.
Ellen: I’m horrified too! How is her first thought that her Chuck Buddy was snacking on her chick? And why does a chicken have a frying pan ANYWAY?
Erin: She totally went to, “Motherclucker ate my baby, WHAT?” She is going ALL Loretta Bobbins.
Ellen: What the heck are you talking about? Do you mean Lorena Bobett?
Erin: Yeah, you know, the chick that sliced and diced her husband’s package.
Ellen: Disturbing. Um, adjust your glasses, Granny, she is taking it to the next level. She is about to end the Foxuation for good. She knows she picked a lowdown scoundrel. She watches Maury Povich every afternoon.
Erin: And speaking of Maury Povich, the master of the paternity reveal, are you really looking at that offspring?
Ellen: What is that thing?? There is no creature like that in nature.
Erin: It’s got fox ears and wings. It’s the Frankenstein of babies.
Ellen: It’s not a Frankenstein baby. It’s a FICKEN.
Erin: There’s no such thing as a frickin’ Ficken. You made that up!
Ellen: Ya think? There are no words for that biological fail.
Erin: But the most important part of any children’s book is the happy ending.
Ellen: And what is happier than toasting a weird-ass newborn creaturewith a little ALCOHOL and the conquered roasting on a spit?
Erin: Wait! But there also has to be a moral!
Ellen: So what kind of moral exactly are we finding in this train wreck, Pollyanna?
Erin: Don’t chuck a fox or you could be raising a Ficken.
Ellen: And that there is your Sisterhood Secret. Sweet dreams, Mothercluckers!
