One time I was sitting at a campfire and this ghost came up behind me and bit me.
except it wasn't a ghost.
it was a rabid wombat with no penis and lots of natural anger.
anger because this wombat was in posession of an undead vagina.
Day and night, the hunger of this undead flesh slit would not cease. As the wombat snored, the undead vagina would snore, viciously, like a broken door in the wind with a grudge against the silence of night. Spitting and coughing with bitterness, eyeing the food around it with lustful jealousy.
But now, it's found something.
It's found me.
The undead vagina clamps around my head.
All I hear is a slurping noise. Then I scream.