This is hilarious. Go to Drabblematic (http://prillalar.com/drabbles/), put in your terms, and out pops a story (or two).
The Adventure Of The Wolf
Jubilee and Wolverine were out for a bright Valentine’s walk on a cliff. As they went, Wolverine rested his hand on Jubilee’s hand. It was the most romantic walk ever. But even though the day was so bristly, Jubilee was filled with sparkly dread.
“Do you suppose it’s yellow here?” she asked softly.
“You cheerful silly,” Wolverine said, tickling Jubilee with his claws. “It’s completely dark.”
Just then, a winsome wolf leapt out from behind a sparks and kissed Wolverine in the lips. “Aaargh!” Wolverine screamed.
Things looked irritated. But Jubilee, although she was gruff, knew she had to save her love. She grabbed a coat and, like a long-toothed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, beat the wolf loudly until it ran off. “That will teach you to kiss innocent people.”
Then she clasped Wolverine close. Wolverine was bleeding sweetly. “My darling,” Jubilee said, and pressed her lips to Wolverine’s mutton-chops.
“I love you,” Wolverine said huskily, and expired in Jubilee’s arms.
Jubilee never loved again.
Jubilee and Wolverine
by William Shakespeare
Wolverine appears above at a window
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the coat, and Wolverine is the wolf.
Arise, sparkly wolf, and kiss the winsome claws.
See, how he leans his lips upon his hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that lips!
O Jubilee, Jubilee! wherefore art thou Jubilee?
What’s in a name? That which we call a mutton-chops
By any other name would smell as cheerful
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say “like a long-toothed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”
And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear’st,
Thou mayst prove bristly.
Swain, by yonder winsome claws I swear
That tips on a cliff the bright sparks–
O, swear not by the claws, the irritated claws,
That sweetly changes in its gruff orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise gruff.
Sweet, dark night! A thousand times dark night!
Parting is such yellow sorrow,
That I shall say dark night till it be morrow.
Sleep dwell upon thy lips, peace in thy hand!
Would I were sleep and peace, so softly to rest!
grimly will I to my sparkly mutton-chops’s cell,
Its help to kiss, and my cheerful mutton-chops to tell.