Mong

"Full fast the rumour 'mong the people wrought; / cold horror chills us, and aghast we stand; / whom doth Apollo claim, whose death the Fates demand?"

Some blue cattle-dogs and a small pack of mongs barked excitedly, and danced round, and wished they knew what to do in such an unheard-of situation; and no doubt dreamed for days after of what they had done to distinguish themselves.

Can't you see you don't belong / You're a stupid little fucking mong