Flatten a Fetus

Those who know me, know my baby stomping boots. They are the best stomping boots on earth because in the souls, lies depleted uranium. People at school have been asking me where they are.
Well I found them, one of them.
Whenever I happen to wake up early on a warm, beautiful Sunday morning, I get this happy feeling. The scent of fresh, bloody coat hangers fills my nostrils and tickles my mucus membranes.
It's a feeling similar to what a brat feels when he wakes up on Christmas morning. I can almost smell the aborted feti (fetuses) in the dumpsters in the alleyways. After I don my "bum costume," I slip the boots on. These boots are so heavy that when I find a fetus, I don't even have to stomp. I
just lift my leg over the fetus (like a pissing dog), and let gravity do the rest. That's how heavy depleted uranium is. I prefer to let the boots stop the fetus in a criss-cross pattern, carefully saving the beautiful, underdeveloped head for last.

Back to the boot I found. It was lying there, sad in the back yard. My dog, Vega, had gotten a hold of it. I was fairly impressed so I decided not to inject her with silicon and botox.

I normally wouldn't mind having messed up shoes. However, these shoes are so heavy that they need to cling firmly to my ankles, and as you can see, the ankles have been slaughtered.
Speaking of slaughtering, I decided to take my Baby Stomping Boots out for one last fetus flattening. Here are the pictures. They're so beautiful it almost brings a tear to your eyes.
Almost.