Rampage at the White House

The white edifice was brightly lit and the carriage way adorned with streamers and balloons. It was to be the birthday party to top all others and all the creatures of the land were invited.

The fronts steps were swathed in a velvety carpet and the butler was announcing the guests. No, wait, it was the famous comic Walter Mitty, resplendent in a grey swallow-tail coat.

First to arrive was the Marshal of Souppails, he was limping a bit and had this jumpy gait.

"Sir Joe Roo, welcome sir. I see you have been hopping around so I Kan't-ga-rude." His chortles trailed in behind the beleaguered guest.

Then came in a couple of jokers in a costume, trying to pass themselves off as a horse, you know ... one is the head and front legs and the other the back and hind legs. They got short shrift from the witty Mitty.

"That one might be hoarse from creating a raucous ruckus, but it is really just a phony."

Then came a guy with this bad attitude, he really had a hump. His head swayed on a long curved neck and he had this supercilious expression on his face. He was allowed to pass with just a murmured, "Let him pass guys, you can see he Camel-ong way."

The cheetah bounded in then, a blur of spots and tail. Mitty made an appeal for applause, "let's all give a hand to our -on-the-spot reporter."

A majestic twelve-pointer sashayed down the walk, he proceeded to push over and stomp an old woman as he went into the now rapidly filling foyer. He made his way to the bar. Mr. Mitty hurried to help up the old woman and shook his head, "that's the first time I have seen a buck give a tramp-le to an old lady."

A gaunt decrepit bovine was making her way, ruminating on the bushes that lined the path; a frisky young bull followed her. His shaggy coat brushed his knees. She seemed to have struck a Mitty as a cow-mely sight, she left him moo-ed. She announced herself in a husky voice, as though stricken with cold, "I am Mrs. Gnu and this is Bi-son"

"Mrs. Gnu, and her son."

There was still a straggler or two to come; many guests had arrived the previous day. The hall was full before the five minutes had passed.

Ah, here's a hardy lady, all rolled up by her travel, a little one rides on her back. A bit unusual in appearance but all kinds were invited. Mr. Mitty begged the indulgence of those within, "be kind fellas, she's had an aardvark."

It's eight minutes into the President's birthday, the lights go out and a woman screams ...

It was I, I yelled, "I am tired of these puns being trotted out, they are all so lame."

Mr. Mitty was miffed, "It's not that easy, you'd think any-mal could do it?"

"Sure," I said in honeyed tones, "except I am always on my best bee-haviour."

"Yeah?" Mr. Mitty's retort was weak but he recovered fast, "I'd indulge you in splitting hares but I wouldn't want to start a ram-page."

You know what? That did it. I hit him over the head and skunk away before somebody raised a stink.

567 words

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Prompt was the words in bold, not necessarily to be used within the write.