The runty blue infant yelped in pain as she was gripped tightly by one of her soft round ears and wrenched from the arms of her protector. The tiny thing was then repeatedly dunked into and swished around the bucket of soapy water, screeching and spluttering each time her little head broke the water’s surface. When the little smurfling was lifted out for the last time it was affixed to an overhead piece of twine by a clothespin clamped onto her tender pea of a tail.
The adult smurf’s was grabbed next, squirming as he was subjected to the same routine, except that a piece of string was used to bind his wrists behind him and that he was hung by his bulbous, fleshy nose.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful it must be for the smurf’s big tender nose to be so tightly clenched by that clothespin. The adult male smurf’s tears flowed freely as he sobbed in abject misery.
The wee little baby smurf’s hysterical squeals tore at my heart. Her soft, sensitive smurf tail was being grotesquely squashed by the clothespin’s grip while her delicate teensy eyes stung from contact with the soapy water.