Monday, October 23, 2006

forbid intermediate weasels

The donkey was old and tough on the teeth. Maximillian Conglomerus Vex, a trader, sighed as he eyed the uneaten remains of his transportation. Pepe had been a good donkey. He was sad to have to eat him.

What saddened Max further was his location. Max was in a mountain pass. Although it was summer in the valley, winter never left these high passes. Max cursed incessesantly at the cold. The cold was a person to Max, a person worthy of hate. Max hated the cold. Would his luck never change?

There was a big ripping sound and then a CRACK and a lightning bolt shot out of the cold blue sky. Max Jumped up. He sensed an oncoming Klee-shay. Although Max had never seen one outside of a zoo, wild Klee-shays had been sighted in these mountains.

Then suddenly there it was, a wild Klee-shay, now appearing as a suspicious looking Greek with a wrapped present addressed to Max, and then looking like a large Goose laying...were those golden eggs?

Max leapt for the Klee-shay, it would fetch a tidy sum at the next marketplace.

Alas, the Klee-shay vanished in a puff of smoke. Max landed in the dust.

"I should have known," muttered Max, and returned to his cold meal of Donkey. Sighing between every bite.

1 comment:

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