I CAME IN LIKE A WRECKING BALL. [SOLO] [Strong language, don't read to your dog.]

Do you know the indignities of gargling orc piss? Do you REALLY know the indignities of gargling orc piss? Do you know how it swills around in your mouth, filling the gaps between every tooth? Do you know the foul stench as it dribbles down your face and in to your involuntarily awaiting lips? Do know the warmth it shares with your throat as you guzzle down that alcohol infused bladder juice?

Do you?

Nope? Me neither, but it made for an interesting solo opening. This is the tale of one time Kially nearly had this pleasure. Eat hearty your breakfast, strap yourself in, gird your loins, ready your guffaws and lock up your daughters...It's going to be a bumpy ride.

Okay, let's do this.

Imagine a bright sunny day, birds and flowers and stuff, ya know? The air is that blissful temperature we all love so much, the kind that fourty-something mothers fantasize about whilst pushing the next carton of milk through the checkout. Yeah, that's right, that warmth, imaginary holiday warm, the good shit. The smell of honeysuckle in the air, a cool breeze washing over your pale ass bitch self as you close your eyes and fantasize in that moment that it will never end. This is perfection, your day can't be any better, even the laughter of children harks to happier times.

Bitch, please, snap to reality, what did you think this was, a fucking chick flick? Get outta here.

Nope, today is a dreary fucking Tuesday in some fantasy fucking forest like every other fucking thread.. Fuck. The air smells of animal feces and is the lovely kind of water-laden bullshit that soaks your clothes though just because screw you, that's why. This is a realistic day in the life of a wandering elemental spirit that has about as much of an idea of where he's going as Stevie Wonder in a fun house getting pelted in the face by protruding rubber clad foam pillars.

With this in mind, let's cut to our fair child, Kially is bolting through the forest with some actual genuine grace, practiced steps bounding him about from fallen tree trunk to moss covered rock with nary a foot misplaced, his light frame moving with utmost ease as his motions are swift and precise, that is, until they're not, and he hooks his foot under a heavy fallen branch and slams face first in to a pile of wet mud.

With a groan, out he pops, his head looking like Barack Obama just got a cleveland steamer facial. Filthy dirt covered hands rise up in protest to wipe away a bunch of the slimy dirt in what can only be described as a frustrated tantrum. He was wet through, cold as a result and now had the complexion of a hungry hobo coming face-to-face with a chocolate fountain. Great. Fucking GREAT. After removing most of the slop from his features, he stands completely, throwing his arms around willy nilly in what could only be compared to a hooker in the backseat of Ted Bundy's love wagon.

Couldn't anything go right today? Would Kially ever get clean? How does Stephen Hawking sound if he makes a robot voice? Stay tuned for the answers to none of these questions and more in the next installation of DRAGON BALL Z.

/PostOne