I cried out in a loud voice, “How long shall shall we be forsaken amongst the meth-necks form the Near East who marry their cousins?”
At this, a scroll was handed me. From somewhere, a shrill voice unlike the gods, like Eli Gold’s, pronounced the judgements.
“Our king, who came from the merciless climates of the North, was installed in the year of our Lord 2007, and was stricken by you with defeat in his inaugural battle. The shame inflicted he has not forgotten, nor will he extend mercy. For he well knows the fear your troops feel upon the sight of their crimson armor. Do not be fooled by his small stature, for he climbs a golden step stool into his mighty elevated chariot, and his kingdom shall rule over your peoples with an iron hand, ironically for 17 years.”
I remembered the days of my youthful vigor, upon the kingship of the one called Kang, whose daughter was corrupted by the Fountains of Wayne; his knuckles were hardened as that of a street fighter, and yet clad with many gold rings; who laughed at the barbarians from the East, and scoffed at fearing them. He many times proclaimed, “I am out for blood, and if the battle shall not be ours, I shall wear the blood of your injured as a royal garment of righteous spoil. Meet me in the narrow field of Scott. And if your many arrows should block out the sun, then I shall flog your men in the shade.”
My soul groaned inside of me, for I knew the pronouncements of Saint Leach were true! Our troops still prepare for the battle, but with sweat and trembling. Upon catching sight of the crimson barbarians’ uniforms, they quiver with fear and wet themselves, as a female birthing canal before a mighty phallus. For we all see how the Persians travel in extravagant luxury, their eyes bulge from excess, and they have no fear of foreign kingdom; yet this shall again strike terror in our ranks, and the battle formation is weakened before the first arrow is launched.
Alas! Those Persians are no longer as strong, and can carry less weapons! We must strike while their coordinators grope about blindly, and their terrified women remain frozen in unbroken gaze! And yet, my soul well knows that the judgement is not yet finished, and our new king is not yet a street fighter.
The lots of Las Vegas have been cast, and their number is sealed. The proclaimed 17 times of baseless fear amongst our fighting men has not yet been brought to a finish. The suffering of our people shall not cease until all the stones of a four-lane gateway around the province of Gordo have been laid. Until then, I patiently wait.
Persians-34
Greeks-10
At this, a scroll was handed me. From somewhere, a shrill voice unlike the gods, like Eli Gold’s, pronounced the judgements.
“Our king, who came from the merciless climates of the North, was installed in the year of our Lord 2007, and was stricken by you with defeat in his inaugural battle. The shame inflicted he has not forgotten, nor will he extend mercy. For he well knows the fear your troops feel upon the sight of their crimson armor. Do not be fooled by his small stature, for he climbs a golden step stool into his mighty elevated chariot, and his kingdom shall rule over your peoples with an iron hand, ironically for 17 years.”
I remembered the days of my youthful vigor, upon the kingship of the one called Kang, whose daughter was corrupted by the Fountains of Wayne; his knuckles were hardened as that of a street fighter, and yet clad with many gold rings; who laughed at the barbarians from the East, and scoffed at fearing them. He many times proclaimed, “I am out for blood, and if the battle shall not be ours, I shall wear the blood of your injured as a royal garment of righteous spoil. Meet me in the narrow field of Scott. And if your many arrows should block out the sun, then I shall flog your men in the shade.”
My soul groaned inside of me, for I knew the pronouncements of Saint Leach were true! Our troops still prepare for the battle, but with sweat and trembling. Upon catching sight of the crimson barbarians’ uniforms, they quiver with fear and wet themselves, as a female birthing canal before a mighty phallus. For we all see how the Persians travel in extravagant luxury, their eyes bulge from excess, and they have no fear of foreign kingdom; yet this shall again strike terror in our ranks, and the battle formation is weakened before the first arrow is launched.
Alas! Those Persians are no longer as strong, and can carry less weapons! We must strike while their coordinators grope about blindly, and their terrified women remain frozen in unbroken gaze! And yet, my soul well knows that the judgement is not yet finished, and our new king is not yet a street fighter.
The lots of Las Vegas have been cast, and their number is sealed. The proclaimed 17 times of baseless fear amongst our fighting men has not yet been brought to a finish. The suffering of our people shall not cease until all the stones of a four-lane gateway around the province of Gordo have been laid. Until then, I patiently wait.
Persians-34
Greeks-10
