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asia_catdog_blue commented at 2010-09-15 11:33:59 » #437660
There's still hope. The King can still save us all.
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There's still hope. The King can still save us all.
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Anonymous commented at 2010-09-27 17:11:36 » #452115
When it first began, I thought to myself, "He will be our savior." The rapacious colonel had taken so much that we had loved - there was nothing he would not batter, nothing he would not fry. I watched as my daughter was taken by his men - their hands were so rough, so cruel - and by the roots of her hair held out over the vat. They laughed, _laughed_, while the sizzling oil burnt holes in her skin.
We heard rumors, from the north, that the great Harlequin had finally finished his war with the Red Sorceress and we all rejoiced in secret. I, for my part, helped ferry what folk to his lands that I could. And in return, one day, over the borders there came Ronald's men and I knew then that I was wrong.
They were boys, young and untrained. They had no true grease, only the sour look of white meat chicken that had been ground up into nuggets. I knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
Now the colonel lies in a tomb of state and King Ron has finished the last of the great wars. The sorceries he wrought cannot be undone. The meat fields are wasting, rotting under the summer sun.
Oh, where are the heroes, the men of true grease and grit? Who will end our oppression? I fear I shall never live to see that day.
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When it first began, I thought to myself, "He will be our savior." The rapacious colonel had taken so much that we had loved - there was nothing he would not batter, nothing he would not fry. I watched as my daughter was taken by his men - their hands were so rough, so cruel - and by the roots of her hair held out over the vat. They laughed, _laughed_, while the sizzling oil burnt holes in her skin.
We heard rumors, from the north, that the great Harlequin had finally finished his war with the Red Sorceress and we all rejoiced in secret. I, for my part, helped ferry what folk to his lands that I could. And in return, one day, over the borders there came Ronald's men and I knew then that I was wrong.
They were boys, young and untrained. They had no true grease, only the sour look of white meat chicken that had been ground up into nuggets. I knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
Now the colonel lies in a tomb of state and King Ron has finished the last of the great wars. The sorceries he wrought cannot be undone. The meat fields are wasting, rotting under the summer sun.
Oh, where are the heroes, the men of true grease and grit? Who will end our oppression? I fear I shall never live to see that day.
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