No mole snout will touch these.
They are here, you know. They burrow beneath us, their webbed paws ever clawing and their whiskers ever twitching their way in the earth’s darkness. They are the mole people, digging beneath the surface, squinting their eyes against the never ending dust, wearing tiny spectacles and yellow vests as commanded by their prophet-king.
Speaking with British accents to one another, they live only to dig tunnels and sacrifice chocolate chips to their strange mole gods. They grow tired of the incessant noise they hear from above.
The prophet-king tells them the gods have grown angry for forgetting the proper grammar of mole-speak and misplacing the chocolate chips meant for sacrifice, for offering the holy beings only mole skim milk instead of full cream.
The noise from above increases, the pounding, hammering, shrieking, and rumbling. The burrowers believe they feel the very pain of the earth. “We must do something,” declares their leader. “Do we sit in silence as our own folly threatens to destroy us? No. We will be smarter. We will go above and cleanse the earth of its ailments. We will find better and richer chocolate chips with which to appease our gods and we will then burrow beneath the surface once again, forever. But now we rise. To the top!”
The moles are coming. Hide your chocolate chips.
Snotting black 
I bet there was chocolate all over the keyboard on this one. Bittersweet?
Semi all the way.
Ahhh…. One of three, I plead with thee, show me how to save them.
For if it be the moles are free, to wander
Will cause mayhem.
You are friggin hilarious, I think you spend too much time by the microwave as it has given you a wondrous sense ( if not a little warped) sense of humor.
I did spend some time in high school trying to make pressed flowers with a microwave kit…it led to me accidentally frying a spider in bacon grease. But that’s another story for another time.
I’d advise putting your chocolate chips on shelves, but then the chickens, acting on orders from Pogo, lord of the chickens, get them. It’s hopeless!
Pogo is a hard master. Few can please him. Is there no hope?
Only the jet powered grizzly bears, in far Russia, can hope to defeat them. We must mount an expedition at once!
I thought that the moles were what I was eating in my favorite cookies with all those delicious dark brown bumps in them! Oh, wait a minute… you’re talking about a different type of mole, and no wonder I’m confused! 😀
Haha—-I suppose brown, furry, and lumpy unfortunately don’t do enough to distinguish the two.
These are bloody delicious, said the moles.
NOOOOO! AWAY FROM MY CHIPS, mole-people.
They won’t get my choc chips I eat them too fast 🙂
A brilliant strategy. I shall spread the idea to the troops.
Actually, the fact that all moles have British accents is a misnomer…I swear to God, I met one that had a Scottish accent…
He wanted my Scotch.
What a jerk..
Trollfully yours,
-Steven
—–
“Forget Marijuana, Crack Cocaine and Heroin, Crepe addiction is no laughing matter.”
http://wp.me/p2grIv-6c
Not surprised. The mole people are notoriously rude, and thanks for letting me know about the Scottish accent!
Hi Thee Ho, tis bright lights to drive them below!
I’m assuming this is a famous part of mole people lore, their feast song perhaps?
Did anyone ever tell you that you might be clinically insane? 🙂
I can’t decide if it’s in my favor to say yes or no…..
LOL!
Moles aren’t cute. They burrow to prepare for the mass rising up when the truth about evolution will be revealed. We’re an experiment, they’re the superior race driven under at first in Scotland and then all over the world when golf courses began to invade their kingdom.
Why do the people refuse to hear truth?! I hear and believe.
I totally remember this being a tv show but it was rats not moles and I think it was based on a dare but good on BBC for running with it… I don’t think any of the rat people took any chocolate chips which is good but I have a flamethrower just in case…Lill
Flamethrowers are the best defenses against rodents…
They better steer clear of my Belgian chocolate or we may have to go postal on them. WWIII? Bring it!
There will be no mercy!
I have learned much here, this day. I knew not of the prophet-king. But most importantly, I will not slumber peacefully because they…they…..they…..speak with British accents! Augh!!!!!
Why do the moles have British accents? I mean, I get it, it makes perfect sense, but why does it make perfect sense? Odd.