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The 40th Fire: A Tale of Triumph

TheGarbageManOct 5, 2018, 7:13:02 AM
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I wanted to try a basic tale and this week's fire was given life by my greatest of friends that I've made as the Garbage Man. He knows who he is. A few words, a phrase of motivation,  and I was off to write this tale. I've been referred to as a rubber ball, taking ideas and bouncing them up to the ceiling. I've also been called the most awful, evil person to have ever come into a person's life, but that is a story for another time. Until next week, my friends, please keep inspiring me!


An Adjective Hero


A heroic hero starts this tale by staring at the entrance to a stone tower completely encircled by flowing lava. He had hoped it would be a tad easier than this, lightly packing and all, but this journey had found itself crossing into insurmountable territory. He didn’t enjoy his final goal surrounded by liquid magma, but it hadn’t been too hard up until this obstacle.

His first hurdle was a goblo-troll, a horrid cross-breed, though no one is sure who rapes who in those copulations. Most people ignore the cries of help from either a raped goblin or a raped troll. This one, however, seemed to have been bred for the purpose of killing men in the narrow passage leading to the tower.

The goblo-troll was even more nastier than usual, the studious hero catching the creature doing something despicably deplorable to a little frog. With a draw of his trusty silver sword, the handsome and courageous hero charged forward, meeting his swings with the goblo-troll’s solid stone fingernails.

Sparks flew as our blue-eyed hero began cutting down the gobl-troll’s defensive nails until slicing into raw goblo-troll hand flesh. The hideous hybrid screamed in pain as the tenacious hero continued until only bloody, flailed danglings of flesh remained, the goblo-troll using it desperately to hide his face from its eventual piercing by the muscular hero’s razor-sharp sword.

The next obstacle was a maze set about with differing traps of the usual sort. The dashing hero was almost crushed by closing walls, impaled by spiked floors, and nearly poisoned by pressure-activated dart traps. The athletic hero utilized his many hours of training and stretching to handily outdo the sneakiest of traps. He was almost bored with this part, to be honest.

As he saw the tower peeking out from behind jagged cliffs, a robed wizard appeared in front of him, a cloud of smoke and the stinging smell of tea tree oil announcing his arrival.

“Lo there, young naiv, I am your final test.” The wizard boomed with the voice of magic, giving deeper bass and volume to his elderly voice.

“Beyond me lies a princess in wait. But the princess carries a curse, and I warn you to turn away, or I will be forced to kill you!” The wizard swung a tiny wand in the air, a crack of lightning arched across the sky, following the wizard’s wave of his stick.

The cautious hero slowly unsheathed his trusty throwing dagger from behind his back. “Oh really? Please tell me more!” He exclaimed.

The wizard raised a surprised eyebrow at the hero’s unexpected response. He gave a nervous cough. “Then sit down, lad, and let me tell you why no princess will ever be found in a castle. You see, in the era of…”

The wizards words were cut short by the sound of a wet THUD and a silver dagger sticking out his forehead, causing his speech to go slurred and his eyes to roll back.

“Aaaaannnnnddddd ssssshhhhheeeee wwwwwiiiiiilllllllll eeeeeeaaaaaatttttt yyoooououuu….” The wizard's waning warning making no sense to the marksman hero. He didn’t like hearing old men talk anyways. They usually had to live a very boring life to get that old.

The intrepid hero finally stood where we began this story, on the ledge overlooking a crumbling tower surrounding by glowing hot lava. The heat wafted into his ruggedly handsome face, singeing a few of his perfect placed brow hairs.

He kicked off a larger-sized pebble into the pools of molten rock, the stone hitting like an ice block on a hot skillet, skidding off with sparks against the solid/liquid surface.

“Well if that isn't the last hair from the donkey’s balls”, the humorous hero observed of his situation. The goblo-troll, the death maze, and the weird wizard were all too easy. Now he had to figure out how to clear a fifty-foot gap to reach his quest’s end.

He came up with a plan, though it would be a risky and risquè one. Gathering up the dead wizards robes, the clever hero tore and twined, creating a length needed to cross the pit. With his trusty silver dagger, cleaned of all wizard brains, the well-tossing hero landed the tip of the blade into a cornerstone and locked it into place.

Dangling by the threads of a dead wizard, the enduring hero crossed that chasm, hand over hand, making it to the front entrance of the towering tower. After making the edge across, the large, wooden door was a welcome sight. The accomplished hero bravely inhaled and knocked on the door. It opened wide on his second tap.

A woman stood there, illuminated by the refracting light of the lava. She was petite, small of frame but full of bosom and blonde hair long enough to be suitable for a princess. She smiled seductively, her red lips open, showing her shining white teeth. She looked him up and down, the masculine hero, undressing him with her eyes.

“Come to my chambers,” she seductively cooed. “And allow me to reward your heroism!”

The chivalrous hero could not comprehend what she was saying. Was she offering to bed him? Then she was not chaste!

“You are not the princess promised!” The enraged hero roared. “You are not the one to bear my heirs faithfully!”

Her red lipstick began to glow, spreading to her eyes, hair, and then skin itself, all glowing red, brighter than even the lava. Her hands grew long, as did her legs and neck, all stretching out and winding around, her red, iridescent snake head rising from her newly formed coils. A pair of glistening white fangs dripped with smoking green liquid, ready to inject their poison into the endangered hero. The now-snake-she-monster-bitch towered over him, ready to strike at his first movement. He had to make it a good one.

The quick hero swung his sword, only slightly to the left causing the giant snake to twist it’s head, striking to our hero’s open right. The slightly part was to trick this snake, pulling the sword back into the right and catching the striking snake.

Both the snake and the stoic hero stood, neither moving, no winner clear. Finally, the snake loosened, it’s coils falling over each other. The giant red snake’s head began to shrink, the body beginning to compress back into the form of the blonde haired woman, the heavily-breathing hero’s sword pierced through the top of her mouth and through her head.

With a defeated sigh, the victorious hero used his right foot to hold the deceased shapeshifter's body down while he pulled his silver sword out. That old fool of a sage had either lied to the irritated hero about the contents of this tower, or had hear this legend wrong. Only the dead wizard had told the most recent truth. Either way, there was no more time to waste.

He would find her, but not today. The hero’s princess must be in another tower. She was always in another tower.





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