With the hauls of the wolves in the dungeon

With the hauls of the wolves in the dungeon like forest, the night started. The queen held the curtains to hide the awful massacre that was planned to role on forest that night.

Those poor smurfs didn't knew what was comming. Everyone heard the stories about how their kingdom burned to the ground and the only survivor was

Papa Smurf. But even HE died after 2 years, when the remains were plunged once again by the evil. But now that I stand here overlooking it... It looks so large and... alive.. I

fell in love with it all over again. It's big poison sack, it's throbbing mass, it's shattered vein evilness glistened like pig fat in the sun and I wanted to nuzzle it with my

nuzzler so nuzzly in it's nook. I was so dripping with anticipation that before I could reach my nuzzling goal I slipped on a wet rock and shattered my coccyx in 3 places. The pain

-ter berated me, "You no see Wet Paint sign? Stupid australopithecines! No culture." I looked beneath my feet at the ruined cave floor painting of a mammoth herd. "I fix," I said.

"Now too late, small brains - hunt magic gone bad, we fix YOU!" The neanderthals herded me into a cage with a fat shaggy & pungent neanderthaless. They prodded me with a spear

(a sharp one, too "Ow!") but I was not warming up to the neanderthaless the neanderthals clearly wanted me to mate with. They surrounded the cage walls & I felt nauseous. The smell

Reminded me of Snickerdoodle cookies. I wasn't feeling in the mood to, you know, w/the cave dude. So I offered to play him in a game of Shoots & Ladders. I'm a master at this. So

the son of a bitch shot me! No, dude, it's supposed to be a friggin' GAME!