Bullet-Proof Bones

First of all shhhh!
I am in hiding with Edmund. I succeeded in getting him out of the gas in the dead of night. But I must be critical- what kind of prison was that? It was so clean that I ate my dinner off the floor- including an after-serving of apple pie and cream. The toilets weren't even blocked. I remembered that mine is, back at home, so I took a couple. Headmund said I should just take one, but I said what if I break one on the way home..? I'm not coming back am I? Also that he's not in charge and should do as I say. So he carried them both- a toilet on each hand. Every time he whined about it I pressed the flushers and reminded him that there will be no sweeties from the shop later if he carries on.. and that something in my belly was calling out to escape..
He was quite easily subdued in this way and we have been undetectable by the fairly fistulent FPD (Fistanbul Police Department).
But enough.. tonight and afterwards are a tale to tell once they have tranpretriforced. The tale of our journey to this point here are for now.

It was dark and smoggy in Fistabul. The moon was vibrating in the putrified city air like a biscuit atop a washing machine. I snuck up to the guards patrolling the walls at Fistabul Prison and casually conversed "inspect the vibrating biscuit moon.." and they were instantly entranced.
I slid past them with a whisper of "suckers" and followed my map to Headmund's cell- taken from the GU official binternet site in fact.
A quick kick with my magical equitic hooves and Edmund was no longer stuck in his polished penthouse of a cell.
I searched the miniature house and found him sleeping in an upstairs chamber.
I prised him out of the four-poster bed and down his spiral staircase. I earlier told of the toilet adventure, which I shall omit on this occasion.
But on the fire exit doorway, stood ten LARGE prison guards, all armed to the teeth with chicken bones.. and one had a large revolver or something also.
We managed to avoid the bone rain that lashed down upon us as the prison cell was taken apart by the avian onslaught. Mirrors shattered and oil paintings shredded. Sofas smashed to pieces and chez longues splintered.
"Ol' Toilet Hands" deflected a few shards of bone back at the guards with his gold-plated porcelain fists. But they closed in further and further.
We came in close range of the gun-man who opened fire. He hit me on the foot and chipped a hoof! His second shot tore through my ear. Edmund later assured me that its nothing his volcanic practice can't heal.
The third shot richochetted off a jewel-encrusted brass door handle.
The fourth shot was empty.
The fifth shot hit a shard of chicken bone, bouncing back towards the guard. Bullet-proof bones..

I then realised that Headmund has at times been a chicken. So I launched him down the mahogany bannister where he was met with three bullets. All deflected in a triad of genius to the assailants. As they cowered in fear, the bullets sprayed further among them until all the brave guards were slain by their own machismo. The remaining poultry strutted towards us clucking ferociously but did not intend to greet the tumbler, tea-cup and beaker that we had acquired from the rather pleasant little kitchen and its most delightfully crafted cupboards.
We fled through the glass patio doors into the rear garden and were almost home free.
I could see the guards who first met me at the entrance and we could so easily have snuck past their hypnotised moon-staring gaze. But I could not resist. They must be mocked.
I was about to break into the most brilliant of detrimentalae when Headmund piped up "Its quite dark out here isn't it?" This burst of reality awoke me from me predatorial foolhardiness and I threw stones at him in disgust at his disruption of my life's greatest moment.
Regardless I did not allow him to leak and we successfully glided past the entrance guards unnoticed. When out of immediate danger, I stacked Headmund, the ungrateful one and reminded him of the Pungent Gas Cloud of Goruguay. Having ridiculed him to my satisfaction we hid in a school in western Fistanbul, from where I write you the story.
Tomorrow I can either return Headmund to prison and claim enough reward money to finance the rest of the GORE album, or prepare for our Deicide show overseas on friday with the Doc.
Hmmmmm.