I was drinking ale from my mighty Cyclops horn reflecting upon future battles and what lucky wench I would conquer later to show her the spoils of war.
And allow her choke up my mighty broadsword.
I farted to amuse my men at the table.
And thought of old friends I had to kill and cannibalize to get here.
And how tender Oxnar The Mighty was.
I believe he was hiding a secret from me.
For only the men of the cult of eternal bath houses were this tender.
It is a shame what secrets brothers keep from one another.
Of course had he only known when I told him to look at the mighty cave troll with a dripping tentacle was merely a ruse for me to bury my battle axe in his skull he probably would be kind of upset with me.
He died with honor like a real man.
And as I pillage the village of Chuck E. Cheese tonight I will think of him as I disembowel that stuffed rat.
Yes the beauty of the battle is almost enough to make the salt water fall from my eyes.
But as I learned from the sea witch Fergie big girls don't cry.
But they certainly do scream as you burn them at stake.
Be well my friends.
Taken from the great scroll of the battle of Muffin Top Mountain and ski resort.
About Rathnar Kilbane:
Is the poet laureate of Iceland.
His praise has been sung by his countrymen for years.
When not slaughtering and feasting upon his victims Rathnar enjoys watching cooking shows on the food network and playing Xbox crushing the hopes and dreams of small children.
Rathnar's work has appeared in.
Seven Swords Of Venom, The Old Witches Smelly Cave Wall, Wolfs Heart Quarterly, The New Yorker, The Wrong Whole Review.
He is currently on tour in the states doing readings.
And killing his audiences literally.
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