Post by Leslie Sarkany on Aug 25, 2019 14:31:32 GMT -5
The Queen. Queen Hunny Bunny must be appeased! The servant dutifully went forth to the kitchen and prepared a breakfast fit for.....a queen! She was pleased. All in the kingdom rejoiced and sighed a sigh of relief. A parole was afforded thy humble servant who immediately left with great haste least thy Queen change her mind. A prerogative of royalty thus parole was granted. Limited it t'was but taken with grace.
Nogo Sojo the royal horseless steed was mounted and galloped due east. Upon the field that the swinger of the official orb did traverse...what...what was this blasphemy? People. People short of stature. Tunics that hide their arms, hands and most of what was below their sash tied at the waist. dear Lord..prayed to Him that this was not so. For I had journeyed for half a day to reach this utopia of coin infested pitch were those that kick the ball can! Flog me. A maiden who had young ones upon the field was approached and asked , "What half is this?" She looked sheepishly at the servant who had asked. "Second." relieve filled the veins of the servant who watched the horror of vertically challenged swarm the round orb where ever it went. Madness I say. Such madness. Thy servant of the queen smiled. He was charmed by the enthusiasm of the horde chasing the orb. Falling under the spell. "Dam it!' Overlap on the right side that was obviously weak" he muttered to no one in particular as the full back on that side was preoccupied fiddling with a loose shoe lace. The horror....the horror. The result was a trip of the striker over his very own feet with the ball painfully crossing the goal line. Bedlam ensued. The servant of the queen then was aghast as he observed yet another horde of handless and waistless miniature combatants appear at the field. They were clad in blue whilst others in pink. it could not be...just could not be. The servant would not get on this field on that day.
Mounting Nogo the servant did go to another field. Shock. Yes shock as this field too was infested. Onward...almost home. Alias a vacant field. Thy servant prayed to "Saint Digalot" that this was a field that would yield the soothing quota. In earnst he began. Thwarted by flies. Racked by pain the servant failed. Forty...like the thieves of Ali Baba.
The servant had not attained the status of quota. He would be shunned, be an outcast. Once home....ever so sadly he watched the viewing screen where as the Bundeslige replayed the 3...nil shellacking of Schalke by the mighty Bayvern Munich. Meade abounded but not the coins of the realm.
The sun dipped below the horizon as the servant dipped below his chair...happy full of Meade.
Nogo Sojo the royal horseless steed was mounted and galloped due east. Upon the field that the swinger of the official orb did traverse...what...what was this blasphemy? People. People short of stature. Tunics that hide their arms, hands and most of what was below their sash tied at the waist. dear Lord..prayed to Him that this was not so. For I had journeyed for half a day to reach this utopia of coin infested pitch were those that kick the ball can! Flog me. A maiden who had young ones upon the field was approached and asked , "What half is this?" She looked sheepishly at the servant who had asked. "Second." relieve filled the veins of the servant who watched the horror of vertically challenged swarm the round orb where ever it went. Madness I say. Such madness. Thy servant of the queen smiled. He was charmed by the enthusiasm of the horde chasing the orb. Falling under the spell. "Dam it!' Overlap on the right side that was obviously weak" he muttered to no one in particular as the full back on that side was preoccupied fiddling with a loose shoe lace. The horror....the horror. The result was a trip of the striker over his very own feet with the ball painfully crossing the goal line. Bedlam ensued. The servant of the queen then was aghast as he observed yet another horde of handless and waistless miniature combatants appear at the field. They were clad in blue whilst others in pink. it could not be...just could not be. The servant would not get on this field on that day.
Mounting Nogo the servant did go to another field. Shock. Yes shock as this field too was infested. Onward...almost home. Alias a vacant field. Thy servant prayed to "Saint Digalot" that this was a field that would yield the soothing quota. In earnst he began. Thwarted by flies. Racked by pain the servant failed. Forty...like the thieves of Ali Baba.
The servant had not attained the status of quota. He would be shunned, be an outcast. Once home....ever so sadly he watched the viewing screen where as the Bundeslige replayed the 3...nil shellacking of Schalke by the mighty Bayvern Munich. Meade abounded but not the coins of the realm.
The sun dipped below the horizon as the servant dipped below his chair...happy full of Meade.
