Your majesty would be quite aware and absolutely mortified if she ever stepped on a furry, rodenty thing.
I accidentally stepped on a dead rat once when walking outside. Looked down, just in time to see, although not to undo the done.
It's eyes were bulging, until they popped out of its head on their optic nerves, whilst a long, pallid-whitish stream of what looked like untied sausages but what was in reality, the intestine of the deceased rat squirted rapidly from it's ratty little anus, all in one piece, after flying a short distance through the air at very low altitude and coiling up randomly, partly on top of each other, partly not. You could see the blood vessels on the outside of this ropey coil of rat insides-that-weren't-anymore, and there was a sickening, squelchy noise accompanied by a kinda low-frequency, 'pllerrrrrggghhhhhhhhhhfffffffllllikkgghtggffftikkkklllll' noise, made by the exit of the rats intestines and then their contents, which seemed to be a considerate proportion of the volume of the rat itself, bacterial decay having liquefied much of the murine projectile behind and inside of the as then still whole-and-attached intestinal tract, and bloat-gas had provided, it seems, a portion of compressed gas (at least, compressed when the heel of a combat-boot inadvertently descended downwards upon its stomach, torso and spinal area) with which to help assist in the launching, projectile fashion, of the tethered rat gut-barrel, of its liquiefied (sort of, more a kind of chunky soup, after putrefaction had gone to work on some of the insides)
ratty little giblets.
The event ended after a sickening cracking noise, as its ribs snapped and poked through the deflated ratbag, because thats all it was by that time, a bag with legs, a head with eyeballs that had burst out of their sockets, shattered front teeth and a lot of curdled looking sort-of-still-red-ish blood leaking from its mouth, little legs and feet where you'd expect them to be, with rib-shards protruding from it's ratty little torso, and a tail now obscured by the end of a somewhat more distant main portion of murine viscera, squirted free of its anal passageway thanks to the pressure on its abdomen and torso by my boot. Didn't see it before it was too late and then it all happened at once, with one slick squirt, a popping out of eyeballs (I had expected them to burst, but no, the pressure just popped them out of their sockets, leaving them kinda hanging down the rat's face on little bloody whitish stalks); and a pair of cracks, one being presumably all its ribs snapping at once and the other must have been it's spine.
Those damn giblets squirted out of that pallid, veiny off-white, slightly translucent tube like diarrhea from an ebola victim, and went flying in a spray as if from a super-soaker watercannon.
So, QV, there really is NO 'thought I just' stepped on... there is only a sequence akin to the above, accompanied, quite likely, if performed by one of the feminine persuasion, a screamed out expression of utter horror. A sickly bursting, and a mess, connected by a trail of stringy bits semi-coiled up to a deflated bag that used to hold a small furry ratlike object, plus the sound of thick, viscous chunky squirting through a narrow tube and of cracking tiny little rodenty bones.
And with that I really MUST apologize to the autistic community, here, and everywhere else. Because I just realized...fuck me...*I* am the one responsible for the awful act of unleashing Jenny McCarthy upon this poor, fucked over world.
Oh man, that is such an awful, awful thought. That I, personally, was the one to see to it that she was given birth to and thrown at this planet:(
I must have done something really bad to have earned karma like that....or was that the karma BEING earned. If so, I shudder to think what is waiting for me round a corner, hissing noxiously in some shadowy other world. As if I didn't have some pretty dire thoughts about THAT as it is.
