Oink Oink Quotes

Because that's what it would catch in the wild, a boar, right? I can't wait to see a pack of bunnycats take down a wild hog with those short tiny legs. Wouldn't the boar be surprised?" Everybody was a comedian. "May be if I oink loud enough, it'll leap across the beam and try to devour me.

And you are? (Elfa) One of the reviewers who wrote that you were a piss-poor substitute for Kiara and that the entire system is saddened by the loss of her from the show. I was just telling her that if she doesn’t return soon and they leave your clumsy ass in, the show’ll be closing prematurely for sure. (Syn) You’re a pig! (Elfa) Oink, oink. (Syn)

Oh, yes. Men were pigs. Some were piglets, all oink and no bite. Some were swine-intraining, teetering on the edge between man and boar. Some were Miss Piggies, no explanation needed. And some were hungry hogs, devouring everything in ther path.

Jaysus, my life was complete. I’d heard a werewolf oink like pig and I could die happy now.

I'm thirteen years old, and I'm somewhat overweight. Meaning: I'm dead and fat. Meaning: I'm a piggy-pig-pig, oink-oink, real porker. Just ask my mom. I'm thirteen and fat - and I will stay this way forever. And yes, I know the word ulcerate. I'm dead, not illiterate.

The pig says oink.

He knelt next to Snort and caressed the direpig behind the ears. “Are you going to be a brave girl for me?” She oinked in response and her tail stuck straight up. “Good girl.

The fight wasn’t over,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’d have won it.” Probably. “Right,” he said. “And something just flew past your window. It was oinking.

You... didn't use the knockout pills, I take it?" he finally asked, staring out into the void. I shook my head. He sat down and we spilt the last Twinkie. "You realise we just sent a herd of flying pigs soaring out over medieval Wales," I said, sometime later, when the last little oinking cloud had disappeared over the horizon. "Hm." "You don't look too concerned." Rosier got to his feet and then actually extended a hand to help me up. "Maybe it will give the Pythias something else to do. And in any case......" "In any case?" " Well. The expression had to start somewhere, didn't it?

in such a rush that I tripped over Mirna’s pet pig in the hallway. Oscar grunted and oinked, and even in the darkness I saw the disapproving glare in his piggy eyes. “Fuck you, Oscar, don’t be all judgey,” I whispered. More grunting. “One more look like that and I’ll tell Mirna how you like to dry hump her teddy bear collection during her afternoon nap.” The oinking stopped and he backed away into the bathroom, where I’d set up the giant dog bed he slept on. I flashed him a smug winning look and flipped him off. I

When did the world begin and how?" I asked a lamb, a goat, a cow: "What's it all about and why?" I asked a hog as he went by: "Where will the whole thing end, and when?" I asked a duck, a goose, a hen: And I copied all the answers too, A quack, a honk, an oink, a moo.

You... didn't use the knockout pills, I take it?" he finally asked, staring out into the void. I shook my head. He sat down and we spilt the last Twinkie. "You realise we just sent a herd of flying pigs soaring out over medieval Wales," I said, sometime later, when the last little oinking cloud had disappeared over the horizon. "Hm." "You don't look too concerned." Rosier got to his feet and then actually extended a hand to help me up. "Maybe it will give the Pythias something else to do. And in any case......" "I any case?" " Well. The expression had to start somewhere, didn't it?

Pigs are special: They excrete far more of the virus than other livestock, and over a longer period of time, broadcasting it prodigiously in their respiratory exhalations. They sneeze it, they chuff it, they oink it, they wheeze it and burp it and cough it into the air. One experimental study found that pig breath carried thirty times as much FMD virus as the breath of an infected cow or sheep, and that once airborne it could spread for miles. That’s why pigs are considered an amplifier host of this virus.

Chapter 28 Genghis Cat Gracing Whatever Shithole This Is, Washington, USA You can all relax now, because I am here. What did you think? I’d run for safety at the whim of a fucking parrot with under-eye bags like pinched scrotums? Did you suspect I—a ninja with feather-wand fastness and laser-pointer focus—had the spine of a banana slug? Then you are a shit-toned oink with the senses of a sniveling salamander. Then you don’t know Genghis Cat. I look around and can see that we are surrounded by The Bird Beasts, those crepe-faced, hair ball–brained fuck goblins. I intensely dislike these lumpy whatthefuckareyous who straddle between the Mediocre Servant and animal worlds, trying to be one thing and really not being, like imitation crabmeat in a sushi log that is really just fucking whitefish and WE ALL KNOW IT. “Would you like a little of the crabmeat, Genghis?” my Mediocre Servants seemed to ask with their blobfish lips and stupid faces. “THAT’S FUCKING WHITEFISH, YOU REGURGITATED MOLES!” I’d yowl, and then I’d steal the sushi log and run off and growl very much so they couldn’t have it back, and later I would pee on their night pillows for good measure. I cannot imagine their lives before me. We mustn’t think of those bleak dark ages. But the Beasts are dangerous. I have watched them morph and chew into a house. I have seen them with spider legs and second stomachs and camouflage skins. I have seen them tear the legs off a horse and steal flight from those with feathers. Orange and I have lost family to their fuckish appetites. But they are still fakish faking beasts and I’m fucking Genghis Cat. They are imitation crab and Genghis is filet mignon Fancy Feast, bitch. Probably I should come clean here and tell you that I’m immortal. I always suspected it but can confirm it now that I have surpassed the allocated nine lives. I’m somewhere around life 884, give or take seventy-eight. Some mousers have called me a god, but I insist on modesty. I also don’t deny it. I might be a god. It seems to fit. It feels right. A stealthy, striped god with an exotically spotted tummy—it seems certain, doesn’t it to you? I’m 186 percent sure at this point. Orange insists we stay away from the Beasts all the time, but I only let Orange think he’s in charge. Orange is incredibly sensitive, despite being the size of a Winnebago. He hand-raised each of my kittens and has terrible nightmares, and I have to knead my paws on him to calm him down. Orange and I have a deal. I will kill anything that comes to harm Orange and Orange will continue to be the reason I purr.

Elfa’s eyes drifted to where Nykyrian stood with his back to a wall. “Didn’t you come in with that Andarion over there?” Kiara tightened her grip on her glass, wanting to toss it in Elfa’s face. “Yes, I did.” A scheming look crossed Elfa’s face. “The promoters might not like that. Andarions are a controversial thing.” Kiara detected a hopeful note under the girl’s tone. “Have you been hooked up with him long?” Syn stepped forward with a snide grin. “She’s not hooked up with him, love. He’s my bodyguard. I, on the other hand, am the one she’s here with.” A calculating look darkened her eyes as she took in the expensive shoes and suit Syn wore. Her smile turned flirtatious. “And you are?” “One of the reviewers who wrote that you were a piss-poor substitute for Kiara and that the entire system is saddened by the loss of her from the show. I was just telling her that if she doesn’t return soon and they leave your clumsy ass in, the show’ll be closing prematurely for sure.” Elfa’s nostrils widened. “You’re a pig!” “Oink, oink.

He’d gut a pig if it oinked at you in a sleazy way.

I said this. She said that. I was angry. She was happy. A pig wandered into the village! The pig looked around! The pig oinked! The pig ate a carrot that I fed him and both of us became super best friends! The pig is happy! Update—the pig left! Where is the pig going?! Why did the pig leave?! Why, Oinky, why?!

Thane turned to the side to look at me. “Good try, boy-o… but not good enough!” he yelled, then he fed his pig a chunk of his carrot and they boosted off to the finish line. I gasped as my pig finished off my carrot and we started slowing down. “Nooooooo!” Thane zoomed off to the pig stable and left me in his dust. My pig was done with the carrot now, so he lost motivation to listen to me. He started wandering all over the place, probably looking for more food. “No, go straight! Go straight! The finish line is over there!” I yelled. Oink! The crowd cheered in an uproar as Thane crossed the finish line.

Most of the donors have a hundred-word vocabulary, including articles and prepositions. Under these conditions, it would be hard not to lapse into poetry. At least, Ledesma says, we won’t run into too much irony, which complicates interpretation. Gigena purses his lips and, after a little “hmm” that softens his disagreement, says that irony is not the exclusive purview of the educated, and that it can be seen outside small-town corner stores in the form of insulting nicknames. Oinking, for example, at a slim young woman.

Within 48 hours of the raid that shut down Oink, two new sites had appeared: Waffles.fm and What.cd, both run by former Oink administrators.

The piggy goes oink, oink, oink, The calfy goes moo, moo, moo, The ducky goes quack, quack, quack And the goosey goes goo, goo, goo. Then little henny walks in the door, Cluck, cluck, she says, and cluck once more, Ai, ai, she clucked once more!5

They are more inclined to think you’re innocent if you sound like Barbara Walters,” Rita said. “You think Barbara would be a good date?” “Oh, oink,” Rita said.

Shirley, you pretty girly!” he cries, and she blushes all the way up to the hairline of her pimple-studded forehead. Little piggy, oink-oink-oink, Brady thinks. You’re so fat your cunt probably turns inside out when you sit down.

Good piggy,” said Alex. “False statement detected,” said Robo-Pig. “I have no programmed morals or ethics, so I am neither good nor bad.” “Can you say ‘oink’?” asked Alex. “I have a full vocabulary and can speak in six different languages,” said Robo-Pig. “Oink is one of the many words that I can say.

Oink,” whimpered Spidroth the pig.

you are a shit-toned oink with the senses of a sniveling salamander.

Oink!” - Watson The Pig

Oink!” Watson happily grinned.

Achoo!" sneeze Robin, Frankie, and Penny. "Oink-choo!" sneezes the pig-baby. "Achoo!" sneezes the Duchess. "That's enough pepper.

Bah,” said Carl. “Don’t you mean ‘oink’?” said Sally, with a giggle.

Oink!

This is the one thing I managed to keep. I’d rather give it to you privately, since I have nothing for the others.” Hesitantly she took the object from his open palm. It was a small, exquisite black cameo rimmed with pearls. A woman on a horse. “The woman is Athena,” Devon said. “According to myth, she invented the bridle and was the first ever to tame a horse.” Kathleen looked down at the gift in wonder. First the shawl…now this. Personal, beautiful, thoughtful things. No one had ever understood her taste so acutely. Damn him. “It’s lovely,” she said unsteadily. “Thank you.” Through a glaze of incipient tears, she saw him grin. Unclasping the little pin, she tried to fasten it to the center of her collar. “Is it straight?” “Not quite.” The backs of his fingers brushed her throat as he adjusted the cameo and pinned it. “I have yet to actually see you ride,” he said. “West claims that you’re more accomplished than anyone he’s ever seen.” “An exaggeration.” “I doubt that.” His fingers left her collar. “Happy Christmas,” he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As the pressure of his lips lifted, Kathleen stepped back, trying to create a necessary distance between them. Her heel brushed against some solid, living thing, and a sharply indignant squeal startled her. “Oh!” Kathleen leaped forward instinctively, colliding with Devon’s front. His arms closed around her automatically, even as a pained grunt escaped him. “Oh--I’m sorry…What in heaven’s name--” She twisted to see behind her and broke off at the sight of Hamlet, who had come to root beneath the Christmas tree for stray sweets that had fallen from paper cones as they’d been removed from the branches. The pig snuffled among the folds of the tree skirt and the scattered presents wrapped in colored paper. Finding a tidbit to consume, he oinked in satisfaction. Kathleen shook her head and clung to Devon as laughter trembled through both of them. “Did I hurt you?” she asked, her hand resting lightly at the side of his waistcoat. His smiling lips grazed her temple. “Of course not, you little makeweight.” They stayed together in that delicious moment of scattered light and fragrant spruce and irresistible attraction.

Happy Christmas,” he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As the pressure of his lips lifted, Kathleen stepped back, trying to create a necessary distance between them. Her heel brushed against some solid, living thing, and a sharply indignant squeal startled her. “Oh!” Kathleen leaped forward instinctively, colliding with Devon’s front. His arms closed around her automatically, even as a pained grunt escaped him. “Oh--I’m sorry…What in heaven’s name--” She twisted to see behind her and broke off at the sight of Hamlet, who had come to root beneath the Christmas tree for stray sweets that had fallen from paper cones as they’d been removed from the branches. The pig snuffled among the folds of the tree skirt and the scattered presents wrapped in colored paper. Finding a tidbit to consume, he oinked in satisfaction. Kathleen shook her head and clung to Devon as laughter trembled through both of them. “Did I hurt you?” she asked, her hand resting lightly at the side of his waistcoat. His smiling lips grazed her temple. “Of course not, you little makeweight.” They stayed together in that delicious moment of scattered light and fragrant spruce and irresistible attraction. The entrance hall was quiet now; the guests had proceeded en masse to the drawing room. Devon’s head lowered, and he kissed the side of her throat. “I want you in my bed again,” he whispered. Working his way along her neck, he found a sensitive place that made her shiver and arch, the tip of his tongue stroking a soft pulse. It seemed as if her body had become attuned to his, excitement leaping instantly at his nearness, delight pooling hotly in her stomach. How easy it would be to let him have whatever he wanted of her. To yield to the pleasure he could give her, and think only of the present moment.

Q: WHY DO PIGS GO OINK? A: BECAUSE FIREMEN BANANA STOMACH PITCHFORK!

Alex raised her crossbow. “Back off! If anyone is going to eat this Porkchop … it’s me.” Porkchop oinked, but she assured him that she said it only to make a point.

The pig is a unique animal in that we can eat it all—as the old expression says, “Everything but the oink.” For the bone lover, the first step in enjoying both fresh and cured bone-in cuts is understanding the animal’s skeleton.

They finished the loop and ended at Severin’s side, where Elle took her customary piece of fruit. Jock danced in place as he watched Elle eat and licked his chops. Elle reached into a hidden pocket of her dress, digging out a small piece of jerky to give the little dog. He just about oinked in thankfulness, and after a minute he and Elle continued on their walk. When