Imagine a town in carnage. The sheep have been killed, their livelihoods are at stake. They need a hero. Rising to the occasion is the town blacksmith, who is chosen to climb the mountain to the creature's cave, and vanquish whatever manner of villany is found within. He climbs for two days and nights, finally arriving on a misty dawn at the entrance to a yawning cave, spanning twice as high and twice as broad as his shop. An otherworldly groan emanates from the unknown depths. Gathering his courage, he steps inside. Bones are piled around, each at least as wide as a man's arm. As he watches, one of the bones shifts. Something is emerging. He lifts his sword, prepared to fight to the death to save his beloved town from the evil dragon when... a tiny head pops out and makes an amiable, high-pitched feminine squeak. The little gal scampers over and sits at his feet, staring sweetly into his eyes and wagging her tail. *blink blink* I love you! :DSnap photo.
*man taps belly* "Now what?"
Don't worry. Not all the stories me and my brothers make up go like this. Most are far weirder.
1 comment:
haha, it's all about dancing around a fire covered in war paint.
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