The chicken corpse lay on the table hours

The chicken corpse lay on the table hours after the knives had dismembered it. The bones from its legs had been stripped of flesh, but rattled toward it. It was chicken apocalypse
like when the water buffalo went down in that ritual sacrifice. Free range. No cages. The chicken had a happy life, but sure as shit, she was just as dead. Roger turned and said
"Oh my lord, that is a cockatrice that just ran off with your beagle!"
Beagles were specifically forbidden in the Cockatrice Feeding Laws of 2084 so I pretended I didn't hear. I just tucked my robes inside my boots and got on my speeder.
Unfortunately the Don's of Cambridge hadn't changed an iota and before I knew it I was pulled over by campus security officer. When he read "Lucasian Chair of Mathematics" on my id
he buckled over and laughed, then in an abruptly stern tone of voice directed my vehicle to the furthest parking lot from the campus theater. George Lucas, don't fail me now, I
prayed and drew my lightsabre. Being trained by the best of the rest didn't get me very far though. I strode towards the theater trying to breathe heavily. I'd get that cop one day
when he would be least expecting it. He's mine now! The theater cast were waiting impatiently when I entered stage left and pulled out my lightsaber. They gasped and
stared as I proclaimed, ""By Grabthar's hammer, by the suns of Warvan, you shall be avenged! For the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many and the few!"
Smiting the heads of the righteous I smiled grimly at my faithful hound Griselda. As she gobbled their hearts the black was purged from her liver and her orifices spouted light.

Started: 2011-02-21 01:14:20
Finished: 2012-06-11 15:05:57

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