Ladies, Gentlemen, and what ever fretted yarrow 8 is, I have a story for y’all. Engineered to capture your attention, your breath, and your sympathies in a tale of great woe.
Many of y’all have seen my unfortunate self portrait on here so I shall not spend my time summarizing my physicality except to say I am a lithe yeoman. In a journey through the way back machine one will find a young HoThy, not six months into this coil, struggling to maintain a grip on life because his poor bronchial tubes hated him so. This early childhood ailment faded over the years and I can proudly report I am mostly asthma free. However in times of great stress, it comes howling back with an iron grip on my lungs.
Today was one of those dark days. I’ve been visiting family in the country and was supposed to return today but due to unforeseen circumstances I didn’t make it on the airplane. My sweet mother, who’s aspirations on my love life has been written here prior, was very upset because she desperately wants me to attend the nuptials of one of those aforementioned lasses. Suffice to say, she and I had a row over the phone about the circumstances and I’ll leave it at that.
Once I returned to my family-in-the-country’s house my nieces and nephews where determined to play a game of knights and bandits. I was the solitary knight, armed with a pool noodle sword, and I carried the sole responsibility to slay those dastardly bandits. Slay them I did. Blood was pouring, limbs severed, heads rolling through the sky, but no matter how thoroughly I slew them they miraculously would not die. After the mound of corpses stacked chest high. One dastardly arrow flew so true, pierced my heart, and down I stumbled beaten and blue.
It was by a holy grace I resuscitated and the campaign began again until I was overwhelmed thrice times. At this point the bloodlust clouded my eyes, the adrenals pumping mightily and I knew I was in trouble.
The cold steel grip tightened its hand.
I told them I was done and I fell up the hill to the house. I made it in, and collapsed on the ground. Woody I called, to my brother for help, but he was asleep, and my shout was more a growl. In my breathless darkness, a toddler sauntered in. “Thomas!” I wheezed “water” I heaved.
He brought me a mouthful in a quart sized cup. “Hee y’a gwow” he said with a grin. Twice that ritual we completed and then I recovered enough to sit up in a sweaty mess of stress. That’s where you find me, covered in stress sweat. Barely recovered. Have a nice weekend
English
#Offtopic
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1 Reply
Kermit The Holy Onepineapples are good 🍍 - old
Glad you’re not dead. Pool noodles are a fright.