Jim had one goal in mind. To be awesome.

Jim had one goal in mind. To be awesome. Beer? Check. Crossbow? Check. Jerky? Check. Wallet in a shoulder holster? Check. He smoothed his hair and grimaced. Time to

go into the woods to hunt for rabbits. It wasn't ideal, but bigger game was scarce, he thought as he nibbled on a sliver of venison jerky. With crossbow in hand, he walked

through the brush trying to scare up anything that would move. His hands were steady, his crossbow loaded and cocked. A brown recluse lowered itself onto his shoulder. It moved

. AGGHH!!! SpiderSpiderSpider! GetItOFF! GETITOFF! His crossbow shot into the air alerting the orcs in the caravan below. His ambush was failing completely.

When he pulled the trigger his braids shot forth dragging him with them. He flew through the air and landed with a dull thump right next to an ugly orc. The orc

gave him a Vegemite sandwich, but he said, "I already have plenty of that." Then he told the orc to grab his braids, and then they flew off again, to unchartered lands.

On the Purple Island, a family of flying dogs played poker. They drank orange juice and played all night until 2am. Then squirtles arrived and played croquet. We played craps.

The dogs crapped on the carpet and were banned from Purple Island. Bad dogs! They sat on a steam ship out in the water, continuing their poker game but howling every so often.

Their howls intensified, as a great wave washed away their cards, and they looked longingly at them, as they drifted away like when your cash notes start drifting away in the wind.