Well, nothing interesting happened today in our battle to the death with Vikings until Phil the Conceited got braces put on him.
"MY BEAUTIFUL SMILE!" He cried as he sunk to his knees. "I LOOK LIKE A DORK!"
Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe, the oldest guy here, tried to drag Phil to Rasputin the Healer, but he was mercilessly DENTURED by those cruel, cruel Dentists. Omar cried to me, "ONLY YOU CAN TAKE THEM TO RASPUTIN! GO! GO!" I grabbed the two fallen vikings and tried to drag them a few feet, but the next thing I knew, there was a red liquid squirting down my back. I turned around to see Omar, his sword dripping with the said liquid.
"AH HA HA!" He screamed. "I HAVE FINALLY KILLED YOU!"
"No, you didn't," I said, pointing behind him. "You missed his vitals."
Omar turned around to see a particularly large dentist with several Omar-stab wounds in him. With a bone-crunching crunch, Omar was pulverized by the large dentist's large toothbrush.
Long story short, the Dentists got the Ale, and now I'm mad at Omar for breaking all the Ketchup packets I glued to my back hair.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
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2 comments:
But I thought you had no hair, on your head, chin, chest, armpits, etc., hence your epithet "the Bald."
Don't be ridiculous, it means he has no beard.
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