- Joined
- Feb 10, 2003
- Posts
- 7,174
A man grows old and tired of life.
He can't stuff the Bull Charge anymore. Great Tiger's teleporting mirages are too much. King Hippo is unfazed by multiple blows to his prodigious belly.
He starts doubting himself.
He draws a cock picture to impress his friends, but, they tell him it doesn't even look like a penis and mock him. He starts to wonder if he even knows what a dick looks like.
Maybe he never did.
But, perhaps, he could defeat an octopus in hand-to-tentacle combat? He can't best other men anymore, but, surely, he could thrash a cephalopod?
A glimmer of hope in his eyes, he sets out for Hyrule, punching long grass and hurling crockery every step of the way.
*****
His life is empty.
Wife and children gone, murdered by a Keebler Elf who found a long knife and fancied himself a hero. Stink? Klink? Fink? His name doesn't matter.
He used to wander the hills, spitting rocks, but there are no more stones. A man and his woman threw them all at ghosts, ignorant of the existence of power pellets and their proper use.
His gelatinous body has sunk between the old masonry lining the ancient path to the castle, too weary to move. He wrings his tentacles at nothing, aching to strike back at something, anything, to revenge himself on the world that has forsaken him.
Footsteps approach. A man is coming, swinging punches at the air, ducking and weaving past invisible blows. Something stirs in him at the sight. The absurdity of men and their lack of appendages angers him: two arms could never compete with eight and he has a mind to demonstrate that to this fool.
*****
He can't stuff the Bull Charge anymore. Great Tiger's teleporting mirages are too much. King Hippo is unfazed by multiple blows to his prodigious belly.
He starts doubting himself.
He draws a cock picture to impress his friends, but, they tell him it doesn't even look like a penis and mock him. He starts to wonder if he even knows what a dick looks like.
Maybe he never did.
But, perhaps, he could defeat an octopus in hand-to-tentacle combat? He can't best other men anymore, but, surely, he could thrash a cephalopod?
A glimmer of hope in his eyes, he sets out for Hyrule, punching long grass and hurling crockery every step of the way.
*****
His life is empty.
Wife and children gone, murdered by a Keebler Elf who found a long knife and fancied himself a hero. Stink? Klink? Fink? His name doesn't matter.
He used to wander the hills, spitting rocks, but there are no more stones. A man and his woman threw them all at ghosts, ignorant of the existence of power pellets and their proper use.
His gelatinous body has sunk between the old masonry lining the ancient path to the castle, too weary to move. He wrings his tentacles at nothing, aching to strike back at something, anything, to revenge himself on the world that has forsaken him.
Footsteps approach. A man is coming, swinging punches at the air, ducking and weaving past invisible blows. Something stirs in him at the sight. The absurdity of men and their lack of appendages angers him: two arms could never compete with eight and he has a mind to demonstrate that to this fool.
*****
