Please welcome Amy Jean Porter's horse T-shirt. For the next few days, the shirt is 20 percent off. - - - - |
Albert Gore and Bill Clinton did indeed have to threaten to blow up the Earl of Lancaster's manor with the stolen chalice of Surrey in order to force the Earl to surrender. A trial followed. Gore and Clinton were found guilty before the Learned Elders of Mirador, in absentia, and multiwing'd messengers were dispatched to notify Lord Ballentin of their escape. Upon hearing the news, Ballentin broke down and wept, and then ordered his Alliance of Six Knights to hunt down and capture our heroes. After a time, Ballentin began to weep again, this time for more obvious reasons. Dame Tina Brown and her common-law husband, Hawk-Flied McCaffrey, the Wisest Man in All the Land, never did capture the flying unicorn that went by the name of Wint'green. Instead, the couple found themselves living in a small hamlet, on the outskirts of the low-lying marshlands of what was then known as The Great Scottish-Irish Empire. Their cottage was large, their love for each other larger, and happiness reigned throughout the land. To this day, no one has ever located the Stassy Sapphire. Lady Liddy Dole was playing her magical spinet upon being informed that Babraum, the half-elf manchild to whom she had most willingly given up her youth, had been hanged for his minor part in the fabled Shallow-Steppe Uprising of the Long Winter. She stopped playing. The room was eerily quiet. After a short while, she stepped away from the solid-gold harpsichord and walked slowly down the long hallway to the Room of Flags. There she sat alone, awake, for the rest of the evening. In the morn, she walked slowly back to the spinet and resumed her melancholic playing. Donald Trump never did recover from the jousting competition between himself and the Princess of Markdale, heir to the fantastic amber fortune. Many years later, still deathly afraid of oak sticks and wild mares, he stood on the edge of the Cliffs of the Northern Sheer and, noticing that no other human soul was watching, placed his scarred right hand over his heart and stepped tentatively into the great unknown. Sir Manfrey, Dame Shalala's wisecracking, stuttering owl, continued to share his delicious yarns with the rest of the townsfolk, eventually becoming Viceroy and ultimately, Mayor. Overcoming the Dire Woods Sickness with the help of the Yuur Elixir, Sir Manfrey managed to live to the ripe old owl age of 104, before finally succumbing peacefully and quietly on a glistening bed of ancient dogwood leaves. The tavern at Hampshire Hills — built by Sir Manfrey and the captured Basilisk creature over the course of five moon cycles — still stands to this day.
OTHER McSWEENEY'S STORIES:
The Red Wing Shoe Factory: Nine Points of Interest By Whitney Pastorek My Dogme95 Confession By Kevin Shay My Dream Kitchen By Mark Schatzker Announcement of an Event Commemorating the Faded, Sagging Glory of McSweeney's, And How Far It's Fallen Since Its Golden Age in October 1998 Why Am I So Handsome? Episode Three of a Trilogy in Scientific Inquiry By Neal Pollack |
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