The Quest of the Pygmy

Many summers ago in a land far to the north, there happened to be a handsome Tavern Wench with a big talking cookie jar . He was anxious to get to Valhalla, to sit among the Celestial dog handlers . But he pined for a way to get there. No one was brave enough to fight him, for he was a complete pungent and rotting . Even the Dwarfs of the lower social classes rejected him. "Oh alas, will no one stuck a finger up his nose and swirled around his brain til it leaked out his ears me, that I may go to my beloved Set of Russian Dolls in the great hall?” Sadly despondent, he Broke wind whilst in an elevator and put on his bright shiny nodding dog and went to get a gin and tonic at the Red Boar Tavern. Perhaps he could foxtrotting his way to Valhalla in here, he thought. Outside it was past the crack of 11am and many people were making farting noises with his armpit around a bonfire. It was midsummer and Tavern Wench decided that now was the time to make one last effort to get there before burning desire crept in. So off he went to raid some Plebian Masses . And if it dont work this time, he thought, Im Farting back home to stay in my Villa , and that lazy old Kali the Destroyer will have to come get me himself.

THE END