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Story No. 1111
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Flinging another pitiful denizen aside, the Troll advanced into the castle, swinging his huge spiked
head, a mediaeval wrecking ball crashing about, bruising enemy skulls. Injured soldiers yelped until apothecaries
arrived, riding on special stage coaches drawn by Shetland ponies. They sold aspirin and compounds of mercury for syphilis but it was said they the sound of their grinding mortars and pestles could drive a nun insane with desire for
hot laxative drinks and punching children. The fact that
it went unnoticed in the House of Commons is not surprising, this kind of behaviour is de-rigeur amongst the Labor factions. My neighbours children were brutally
glued together into a fleshy, snotty blob of youth. Street kids now kick the so-called 'Children Ball,' but despite its groans, the people prefer it to the incessant violence of old. Twelve steps forward and eleven back, humamity hobbles along.
Vern Acula
zomnoth
Crowfeeder
Big Vadge Madge