And so, it began with new possibilities around, as she walked by the market with her head held in a surprisingly despondent slump - she glanced towards the man standing by the stall with his kilt and longsword poised to inflict instant and ecstatic bliss upon those who dared cross his trailing shadow. She stopped suddenly, taking notice of a suspicious woman peeking inside the place where goods were being haggled.
"Can I give that Melon a taste?" says a tall, uniformed raccoon who had been known to devise evil schemes. "I'm unleashing my own brand of milk flavoured lemonade and you should definitely try it, thick and creamy!"
At this, though the smoky haze dampened her she shrugged and quit. Whispering under husky breath to herself, "That bastard should learn when to notice breasts and when he stands upon those metal plates he better have a damn good reason for stroking his happy little nose, and painting circles with his pretty rusty but quite serviceable spear."
Meanwhile, as her brother ran north towards the land of women slavemasters he unknowingly released the dogs of small battles but large ambitions. As their hungry chops descended on nothing but very low fat, juicy sweet Swiss cheese, they melted the rest with love and inhuman lust, reminiscent of times when Romans thought of the Swiss as simply too much holy cheese.
When it became clear there wasn't painted lips prepared for what he had in his toolbox,