The Prophet Efyualtuel stood in the desert

The Prophet Efyualtuel stood in the desert of his times, and was silent. Desert wind blew, haters hated, chatters chatted, and the plastic did abide. But in that silence came to hi

The Prophet pulled his cloak close to him and walked fastidiously as to not dirty his clothes. "You have a dry wit my old friend." He chuckled at the farmer. "We have need of you."

He led the witty farmer back to The Dark Lord's lair. Trembling before hordes of dark entities, he began: "I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas, I'll never kn

ow." The farmer's coded message made the hordes of dark entities gasp. The Dark Lord rose from the coffin and said, "Now the quickening begins."

"Not so fast," said the farmer as he eyes the Dark Lord's satin cape, "Sarah-Belle won't give milk unless somebody reads from the Bible." Again the dark hordes gasped. They had

had enough of this inbred farmer's insults. They booed and hissed with devilish spite at him. The Dark Lord raised his hand and all was silent. "This bovine is the anti-christ cow

And puts put poisoned milk. How do I know?" The cow bolted into her hiding place and injected VX into the Dark Lord. He stewed and brewed until he dropped dead. Mr. Farmer

please forgive me I am a depraved cow, she thought. The farmer watched as the Dark Lord disintegrated into a puddle of black blood. He fed this to the black farm cat. She alone had

weathered the storm that so many before her had succumbed to. The Dark Lord, the farm cat, all of it now was forever locked in the bell around her neck, a testiment to her courage.