So there I was, planting apple seeds throughout the frontier, and out of nowhere comes this funny guy named John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Schmidt. He’s going around singing his name like some kind of idiot, so I seized the opportunity to copyright his song, just so I could collect the royalties from him.
Seeing as how the song was only five seconds long, I could charge him quite often. Then inspiration hit me, so I strolled down to the local tavern and listened carefully to the drunken renditions of different songs, and I realized that they were different enough to copyright without infringing on the original copyright. So I go about copyright’n all of these slurred songs, and as it turns out, each drunk slurs a little bit differently. So here I am, tryin’ my hardest to write every possible drunken rendition of every song. That’s when it hit me: I need a huge blue ox. I can’t quite remember why it hit me; it might’ve been the booze. I was trying to write drunken renditions after all.
And so I find this huge ox, and I realize that I am easily no match for it. This is when I turned around and began running. Luckily for me, a crowd of innocent bystanders meandered into the ox’s path. The next thing I know, the ox is lying on the ground whimpering like some kind of baby. So I approached the mighty beast, only to realize the reason for the ox’s pain: It had a farmer stuck in its hoof. So I kindly help the poor ox out. I took a 2×4 and pried the poor farmer loose (what was left of him, anyway) and the next thing you know, this ox is my best friend.
That’s when the $’s sprung up in my eyes: I realized this ox could easily feed a whole town for a year. “Now to find a town with a big enough gun to put this creature down with,” I thought to myself, “seein as ordinary bullets just bounced off of it.”. Well after tryin a few dozen cannons to no avail, I realized I needed someone with tremendous strength, and not much brains, so I started auditioning. I finally end up with this meat-head named Hercules, and when I say meat-head, I mean it. This guy didn’t even know which end of a tree you’re supposed to chop. This kid kept telling these crazy tales about his dad being some kind of omnipotent being and whatnot, that’s when I pegged him as a loony, I convinced him that he had to help me slay this giant beast, in order to get a golden fleece, I couldn’t believe he fell for it. Eventually I got the basic plan into his head, all he had to do, is chop the head off the big ox, this is when the trouble began.
I never really considered how much blood a huge ox like Babe (the pet name I’d given him) could hold, and well, the nearby towns didn’t much appreciate my lack of foresight, especially when the tsunami of blood was headed their way. Quickly I blew a breath of frozen air at it, a trait passed down through the Frost family, and froze this giant wave of blood solid.
While, I’m not really a member of the Frost family, But Jack used to deliver the milk when I was a child, so I figured the ice breath sort of rubbed off on me. Once again, my lack of foresight was my downfall. Now, instead of demolishing the nearby towns, I ended up nearly encasing them in ice. The three survivors were very angry about this: You know “you killed my family” this, and “you’ve ruined my life” that. I ended up settling the score with ox meat. Now, I had planned to sell this meat to the nearby towns, but since we were in the middle of a “population crisis”, they didn’t exactly have much interest, besides the original bribe, er, tribute.
So I convinced Hercules that we needed to bring the beast’s carcass to the nearest “populated” town to collect the fleece. He kept trying to convince me that proof of its demise should be enough, but I kindly reminded him that he was an idiot. Now this guy was a tough guy, but no matter how tough he was, there was no way to avoid half-dragging this giant, blue, headless ox. This wouldn’t have been a problem, if the nearest town was within 50 miles. Now lets pretend the ground is sand paper, and Babe’s headless corpse was a piece of balsa wood; yeah, it wasn’t pretty. When we got to the nearest town, only about half of babe was left, and there was a huge red path behind us. Ordinarily this wouldn’t have been a problem, but it seems this town had some odd organization protecting the endangered giant blue oxen, and seeing as how Babe was, well, the only giant blue ox, there was hell to pay.
Now normally in this situation, I’d high-tail it outta there, but seeing as how I was in the middle of town, and surrounded by angry citizens carrying torches and pitchforks, that didn’t seem like it’d work. Now the second idea that came to me seemed a little more likely to work. I decided to play blind, color blind that is. I fell to my knees and covered my face in my hands, I hadn’t intended to use the waterworks, but the sharp rock I just slammed my knee down on changed my mind. “I didn’t know he was blue!” I let out between sobs, “I thought he was an ordinary giant brown ox!” This seemed to take them aback for a moment: Now all I had to do is convince them I was the victim. This wasn’t as hard as you’d have thought.
So there I was surrounded by angry villagers that didn’t seem to be buying my “colorblind” excuse. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the pygmy cannibals arrived. Sure, they couldn’t have been more than 3 ft tall at the best, but when a people eats human flesh, other people tend to fear them. I on the other hand, found this to be the perfect diversion: Now was my chance to escape, or so I would have thought, if the entire town wasn’t surrounded by half-pint human-eaters
But, I remembered something about common enemies, and friends and stuff, so I realized, all I have to do is kill a few innocent people, and that should scare the little people away… I quickly grabbed a pitchfork from the nearest civilian, who happened to be frozen with fear, then I stabbed him with it. Hercules seemed to think that everyone was waiting to be saved by him or something, and rushed out into the middle of the pygmies’ group and started stomping like crazy. I pretty much ignored him from this point out, trying to make like I didn’t know him and such.
Now, generally you’d expect people to attempt to defend themselves, especially when charging them with a pitchfork in your hands, these people must’ve been as dumb as rocks. The biggest effort I saw of self-defense was one guy who yelled at me when I was charging him; everyone else just stood there with their backs turned to me, like they wanted to be killed or something. Now, in the fray I spotted the leader of the pygmies. He had a patch over one of his eyes, and one of his ears looks as though his wife gnawed it off. I assumed he was the leader, at least: He was nearly 3ft 2in, so among them he was a giant. And everyone knows that the one guy that you can tell apart from the rest of the crowd has to be the leader.
This is when my plan came to me: All I have to do is take out this guy, and the rest of the pygmies will worship me as a god. Unfortunately, my pitchfork was a little too inbedded in my last victim, and it was not coming out. So I turned to “plan B.” Plan B was to trick him into killing himself, all I needed was a raw human heart, and I had no trouble finding one of those… After I cleaned off my pocket knife, I began stomping my way through the pygmies towards their leader. Now, I probably could have just kept stomping and went right on by, but once I make a plan, I got to see the results of it.
I stopped my stomping right in front of the leader of the pygmies, and as he opened his mouth to bite me, I stuffed the whole heart down his throat. The whole crowd went silent and looked at me and the one-eyed, one-eared, pint-sized, purple, people-eater. He grabbed at his throat for a few minutes as I stood there patiently waiting for him to keel over. He kept giving me this weird look with his eye that intrigued me at the same time as it disgusted me. Now, I was expecting the pygmies to bow down and grovel, or at the very least retreat, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Almost at the second he finally croaked, the entire horde of pygmies came rushing at me with their teeth bared. It kinda looked like an ant hill after being stepped on, from my angle at least. Now, one of my faults is my complete and utter lack of “correct” foresight, which you may have noticed; my other major fault is my bad habit of blaming others when I make a mistake. The latter came in quite handy as I pointed at Hercules and yelled “He Made Me Do It!” Now, I was unable to pull a fast one on the villagers, but these pygmies were something else, even though they all just witnessed me laughing at their leaders last moments of life, for some reason they actually believed me.
The horde turned around almost in one fluid motion and began charging directly at Hercules. I almost felt sorry for the guy, when I realized he was just a waste of good meat anyway, at least he could feed some pygmy children for a few days. A little too late I realized my folly, for Hercules was carrying my backpack, and in my backpack was my wallet…
So there I was, knee deep in pygmies, not a dime to my name….