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.

Gropius in 12 lines times 4 words

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