Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Trouble in the dusty town of Squelchford

Twas a hairy night in Squelchford and a time of year worthy of celebration. Mr. Blechqwaff and Mrs. Michepogs were both planting mystical red seeds into the dirty clumps of the haunted mine. In three mighty years four glowing royal flowers will grow from the rippled soil of the mines floors.
These flowers will ooze a beautiful perfume that will cure the people of Squelchford of the mass disease, 'The Dreaded Cold'. This disease has jumped from one victim to another over the last week, bringing four deaths to the people.
"Fred Wilbert Henry the Flurge was a young and very brave man. A son and mother and father and uncle to at least seven fat children of the north. "
These words were spoken at one of the victim's funerals of pain and suffering.

"ME? WHY I AM MIGHTY WARRIOR Peke Sheif. We come in peace little people."
The two magical warriors stared down at the small fat children of Fred Wilbert.
One child said this, "In the future, what is to happen to our people? Do the magical medicine flowers finally bring their mega power upon Squelchford?"
Peke smiled, "THEY DO."
"And are we all saved from death?"
Benson stepped in, "I CAN Answer that one young child."
"Go ahead then."
"Everyones gunna die of the Cold. Sorry."
The fat children alll began to cry.
"Yeah.. the flowers take three years to bring forth their medicine. But cold kills everyone in like, a week. So its like..."
Peke burst in, "Da maths just don't add up chakow?"
"OH yeah."
"No yeah."
"Potaa... sorry Benson. I got a bit carried away there."
"That is ok Peke, after all, its the kids that are going to die."
"I say it is because they eat so much, makes the Cold want to eat up their lunches... which is in their stomachs, you know?"
"Peke, the kids are standing right there. Watch what you say..."
"Oh sorry Benson, sometimes you are pretty smart when it comes to my social disability."
"I know, deal with it. But seriously those kids are pretty obese."
"Sorry. It's getting late. Should we head back to our own time?"
"Yeah sure, 1995?"
"Yep. So long Squelchford."

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