The Epic Quest of Gerswindaliusosorification
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In the long forgotten days of yore, about a week ago, there lived a man named Dr.
Rick Pedophraime. The "Dr." wasn't actually part of his name, you see. It was an
abbreviation for "Doctor", which was his title. He was a medical doctor by the name
of Rick Pedophraime. For you see, nothing is what it seems.

Our story finds the heroic Dr. Pedophraime making a heroic junction to the Plains
of Penegroth high atop the Tower of Unsymmetry, where he took his steel-bladed
shovel, its handle etched with throbbing runes of eldritch power, and started to
dig in the rich earth. He was digging for butter. It was truly very seldom that he
ever found any, but he hoped today would be different. Today was a very special
day, for he had been sent on a mission by the President, and that happened only
slightly more often than a successful butter dig.

As the redoubtable Dr. Rick Pedophraime valiantly turned the earth with his mystic
entrenching tool, the lovely Carradiala Aemegarth thundered across the plains on
her legendary mare, Goldenmane. Carradiala (who we will call Carrie, because she is
really very friendly and does not mind this familiarity at all) was on a journey to
the Dark Cavern of Eightwhale to procure the Horn of Trumpeting. She rode through
the wind, her flowing red tresses streaming behind her, carrying her gleaming
golden spear.

Following her were a company of eleven legendary heroes. Their number was composed
of the mighty warrior Dorath, Borack with his thews of iron, Mashgar who was feared
throughout the lands, the powerful and terrible Mirroth, Hargath who was matched by
few in his battle prowess, Harkar who no sane man wished to cross, Azbald whose
battlefield exploits were known to all, and the twins Bimble and Bomble, who
brought up the rear, bobbing their heads merrily like turkeys in a line.

By the time they reached the dark cavern of Eightwhale, they had eaten Dorath and
Borack and Mashgar and Mirroth and Hargath and Harkar and Azbald, and a great deal
of dirt and twigs and water and air and things. If there was any butter to be had
digging the Plains of Penegroth, surely they ate that as well, for Dr. Rick
Pedophraime never found it. Fortunately, they did not find and eat that worthy, and
he continues to live in a pleasing manner to this day.

Still the mighty Carrie's hunger wasn't satisfied. "Bring me more food!" she
bellowed. Bimble and Bomble nodded eagerly and traipsed off of find some more food.
They wanted the satisfaction of pleasing a great warrior such as Carrie, and also
to avoid being eaten as their bretheren could not. Also, since these warrior women
are always hot babes who dress in revealing outfits, they thought they might be
able to get some action.

"Why is there no food to be had?" Bimble asked his twin brother, who he had known
all his life.

"Because the oppressive overlord, the Mad King Jermund Towelhowler, does not allow
his people to eat." Bomble was a lot smarter than his twin, and this showed.

"I swear unto you this day, my noble sibling, that I shall dedicate my greatest
efforts to effect a favorable change of regime and liberate the oppressed populace
unless the king gives people lots of food and starts being nice pretty soon,"
Bimble declared, the wattles beneath his neck swaying in the wind as did his long,
flowing hair.

"Bimble was very perplexed by this, and immediately stuck his head into the Earth
as would and ostrich (for you see, he had had the pleasure to encounter that
creature on many an occasion and much admired its mannerisms and deeds)," Bimble
said.

"Why are you saying that?" said his twin, wondering worriedly about the state of
affairs.

"Sorry. I told you that I'm very confused," Bimble said, eyeing his brother with a
strange leer.

Bimble was very perplexed by this, and immediately stuck his head into the Earth as
would and ostrich (for you see, he had had the pleasure to encounter that creature
on many an occasion and much admired its mannerisms and deeds). Unfortunately, the
dirt all around his head was such a great and insurmountable obstacle to his
process of breathing that he very shortly gave his last. He passed away, and his
spirit moved from his body, rendering him in a fatal condition that is often
referred to as being deceased, expired, moved on to a better place, among the
angels now, or--in the vernacular--deader than hell.

With great gaping eyes and great gaping mouth, Bomble did stare at his fallen
brother. Saddened and confused by the sudden manner of his fatal doom (for as
mentioned, you will recall that Bimble was--as has been said, with apology—deader
than hell), he wandered the Earth in sadness and desolation, muttering and
mumbling, stuttering and stumbling, never daring once to meet any man in the eye,
until he had gone a half-mile or so.

Then he took heart and brought the steaming corpse of his brother back to Carrie,
and Bimble was roasted and smoaked over a crackling fire. They ate him, and found
him to be very nutritious, of an excellent flavor when properly seasoned. However,
as they lacked proper seasoning, it must be admitted that he tasted rather poor.
The two of them ate the entirity of Bimble's corpse (you may recollect at this time
or any other that this once-great man was now--alas! the tongue will not unknot to
speak it!--deader than hell), and that made an end of him for ever.

Still, this might have been all right had Bomble not taken that opportunity to trip
and fall face-first into the searing flames of the camp fire.

He roared and charged off into the distance, flames crackling merrily around his
person in a beautiful, deadly dance that it inspired Carrie with sadness and
solemnity. As Bomble ran around on fire, a song broke into Carrie's throat, which
goes about like this:

Oh noble man before me burns;
Terrible firely lore he learns!
Sleeping nostrils come awake
For burning flesh that smells like steak.
How steam rises from his portly frame!
Were he to die, it might be a shame
And yet it could be worse, 'tis true;
He could be boiled and dipped in glue!
Or eaten bit by bit by fearsome ants
Or have his neck shoved down his pants
Or choked by the stench from his behind
Like a melon without a rind.
Burning is a death that's filled with pain,
But here his death won't go in vain.
For now in the dark I can well see
My burning friend lights the way for me.

The song touched Bomble's heart with such emotion that he turned and applauded for
Carrie at once. Then he fell over dead.

And with that being done, Carrie retrieved the Horn of Trumpeting from the cave and
lived happily ever after.

FINIS