The Rotting Monkey of Guilt.

[Absolut_Zero]

Alright, I've been a little awol lately, but I'll try this one.

Bismark, the leader of the most degraded, backwater nation of the world had once been great, but, in his power he had gotten careless, and now possesed only three mules, two cities (and a partridge in a pear tree) shut the hell up, and one quite disgruntled cossack. His only goal now was to destroy the tribe that brought about his downfall: The Egyptians. So begins my tale...


"Can you help me?" Bismark had to scream over the loud grinding sound of his mules platinum plated teeth.

"Whip you? Sir, In all due respect, I don't swing tha..."

"Goddammit, what have world leaders told people about in all due respecting me. Don't make me spiel at you, you may be my Science Advisor but I can eat duck just as easily as a horsemonkey."

"I apologize, but in all undue..

"I'll spiel." Bismark threatened at the top of his lungs.

"I screamed, in all undue respect."

"Oh, well that's a different bowl of rice entirely. Proceed."

"Sir, assuming whores had monkey's, why would you want to bleed and f**k as well as them, and..."

"Here here, I'll have none of that vulgar language in my palace."

"But we're in the stable, with the mules."

Bismark looksaround and verifies that he was indeed in the stable, "So we are. That's still no excuse to use stable-boy language."

"But sir, with the shortage of staff, and the wicked witch of the west ,as you like her called, in control of our resources, we actually are stable boys."

"Just shut up."

"What, don't you remember?"

"Remember what, your stupid pointy hat in the middle ages?"

"No, before you asked me to whip you."

"I asked to help me."

"Oh with what?"

"Destroying Egypt."

"I can't help you with that."

"Why not."

"Because you thought my hat was stupid."

"I was, uh... It was constuctive criticism."

"Yeah, sure, and you're Abe Lincoln."

"Oh don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Oh, let's just forget about it."

"You don't have to worry about forgetting, I bet you didn't even remember today was our anniversary."

"What anniversary, you're a Science Advisor, and I'm a king, for christ sake, what could we possibly have in common to anniverserate."

"It's that slut narrator, isn't it."

Hey, don't get me involved in this.

"Everybody, just calm down."

"That would be great for you wouldn't it, Bismark. If we all just calmed down, right!"

"Hey, what about the mules, how can we hear each other."

I'm not getting involved in this.

The Science Advisor thought, damn that bastard and his dirty pork.

"I didn't want to do this," Bismark pulls out his -piece-, and points it at the S.A.'s head, "Now everyone, just shut up."

Silence.

"You too."

But I have to keep the story moving, without my narration, the readers would have no idea that time passed, and... Now!!!!!

The Science Advisor knees Bismark in the groin, grabs his pistol, and leaves, without ever being seen again.

"You suck, I hate your narration." Bismark says as he doubles over in pain.

Oh well, now Bismark is in to see his mystical augar.

"How do I defeat the Egyptians, oh great prophet?"

The oracle stares at him and uniformly states, "I could easily solve your problem, but what will I recieve as payment?"

Bismark, gazes at the augar with a look he feels is seductive, but in reality, appears as if his, -ahem- member -ahem-, was caught in a certain zipper area and says, "I think something can be arranged."

"Uh... That's alright. I'll do it for free. Family discount, you know wink-wink, nod-nod, say-no-more."

"But we're not related."

"Close enough."

"Alright then. what is the answer to my query?"

"What you seek, will require, deep, searching, into the darkest depths of ... a.... oh, screw it. I'm not good at that mystical bullshit. It's at the bottom of the Mountain of.... I won't try to be dodgey anymore, it's behind you throne, but to open the gateway, you will need the scroll from the anchient wizard, Morgrad, to get his scroll, you will need to beat him in a game of fjord placement, and... well, I'm lying, it's in you pocket, right there."

"So it is, but what is it?"

"It's the rotting monkey of guilt."