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 Author:  Topic:  Posted:
Jul 21, 2001

fat-time lumbered through the forest with his lubricating midget rapid fire pellet gun tucked firmly under his jiggling, sweating arm. fat-time inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet scent of the near-virgin german forest.


More diaries by fat time

"mmmmm," he drooled, "smell that air, lubie."

"mhhmhhhmhhh," grunted the rapid fire pellet gun, "i want some cheese, fat- time."

fat-time patted the rapid fire pellet gun on it's greasy head, "we'll get you some cheese, little buddy."

fat-time made way for the old bridge, which would lead him back out of the forest and to the nearest cheese market. as he approached the bridge, he heard a disturbing sound, resembling a screeching cat, coming from the underside.

"wwwwwhat was that lubie?!"

the midget scratched his ear with his right foot, "i dunno, fat-time. better get me ready in case we see some action."

more noises... this time a scratching sound.

fat-time grabbed the midget's legs and aimed it's rear directly ahead.

suddenly, a large, furry troll leapt out from under the bridge, wielding a rusty machete. the troll pushed a red jewel on the handle of the machete. a bright flash of blue light enbathed the weapon as it powered up. with a final whirring sound, the blade ignited into flames.

the troll moved toward fat-time, swinging the machete wildly, hacking to bits any vegetation in its way, "Sie kreuzen nicht diese Brucke, fetten Esel!"

"you pretentious pseudo-german troll," fat-time gasped. he aimed the rapid fire pellet gun at the troll and, with a few firm squeezes, dispensed a hail of death pellets.

the troll exploded into hundreds of small chunks as the machete short circuited in the river below. fat-time watched in amazement.

suddenly, the troll-chunks began jiggling. one by one, they began popping like popcorn until each one was a complete troll.

the trolls scurried off toward the underside of the bridge, "Sie haben diese Schlacht, Lardo Calrissian gewonnen, aber Sie sind nicht so gluckliche folgende Zeit!"

fat-time shuddered at the thought, "come on, lubie, let's go get your cheese."

the rapid fire pellet gun grunted.

note - all umlauts removed to preserve pretentiousness.


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