Your murder, my trial.

Bat arse

 

Thinking she might add goats’ blood to the bloody red cloak she wore, Gentle Annis was pleasantly surprised to find the troll they inadvertently lured out as they crossed a rather nondescript bridge, to be far greater sport, which it indeed proved to be.

 

The following day she caught up with the three nanny goats mildly ticked off, and added their torrents of crimson gold to her cloak as well.

 

Her trifecta placement, Gentle Annis, bloody and still with opium to spare, discovered three rather poorly built houses. All with the architectural flare, and building skills of someone lacking opposable thumbs. The first pig to fall beneath her knife was in a brick house, the second, in a house of straw, and the lucky last was from a house of wood. After bleeding all three out, she let each squeal unto death as she did so, her grotesque polar bear and baby seal cloak had never shone so brightly. Not one to ever let a chance go by, she packed the straw from  the second house into the wooden house, dragged the three less than medium sized pigs into it, threw them onto the straw, and then laughing, lit the lot. The roast pork she ate three quarters of an hour later was most delicious, and if anything, aided in strengthening the power the cloak gave her.

 

Life, like her ill gotten opium, was good.

 

It’s Friday! Blah, blah, blah, click the picture. Woohoo! Rock and roll!

 

N.

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