The governing body that supervises wizards

The governing body that supervises wizards is called the High Council. The Council enforces the rules and makes certain that nobody ever knows what’s going on in the
inner halls. This was no wizarding school. These were calculating devils with whore's hearts. Having sold their souls for power, they found themselves eternally thirsty
for O'Douls. In their evil pact, they constantly craved the non-alcoholic beer at the expense of any other refreshment. Such cruelty! They would never be drunk again.
Instead they hyperventilated and then held is breath. The momentary high was worth the huffing and puffing. He learned it from his Boy Scout
dungeonmaster, who had placed him in straps ever since Camp Gotchercoochie. The older man in the brown uniform looked proudly over his
glasses and gave a nod to the slayer. "Be done with it" he ordered. The dungeon was quiet and the sound of the sword being pulled from it's sheath split the silence like
butter. Which reminded him that the doctor wanted him to lower his cholesterol. His wife had been nagging him as well an he promised her, before he left on his adventure, that
he would eat right and "get healthy." "What did that even mean?" he wondered aloud, not knowing that someone had overheard his think alouds and heavy breathing.
It was Colonel Sanders, and he started extolling Extra Tasty Crispy as a part of a healthy lifestyle. Less fat than uncooked bacon, he said. I was convinced. Buckettime is sublime.
and so is bath time. And that's how we end our story. With me lying in a bath blowing smelly bubbles and thinking of what could have been.

Started: 2010-12-04 00:30:17
Finished: 2011-01-20 16:55:16

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