all terrapin sedan

Along the beaten road was a beaten man with beat down plans to get no where fast. His name was Leonard, he had acquired the taste for all white egg omelets whilst traveling in the subzero haven of Allganxarby. He was banished from the land by a cruel and unusual king. The head of the monarchy was brought up to be a first class jerk post haste. After forcing Leonard to eat a gladiator helmet’s worth of lizards and prime jello, he raked his back with coals and made long distance calls from his house when he was out doing foolish errands like finding the corner in the Royal Round Room (The Three R’s were quite different in Allganxarby, also called Xarby Days by hicks and locals.)

Once there was a three day sale at the local Wendy’s and the King stared -- with his gaping maw open – at the over head menu, completely oblivious and indifferent to the growing line behind me.

“I’m here on my lunch break,” One anonymous man shouted. His name was Rick Obini. He’ll be important later when he is shot upon the bleeding sunset.

One small dwarf shouted: “I don’t have the decency to tolerate this utter ding dong.”

And as he stood there, the King grew increasingly hungry.

“I’m hungry,” he thought aloud.

And even though his constituents were an impatient and adoring public, they had no tolerance whatsoever for lollygagging. They waited as long as they could possibly wait, and then they hoisted the King on their shoulders and gave him the bums rush straight out of Xarby Days, and onto the street. He had replaced the streets with conveyer belts a while back, and he was ushered out of town. And this made the sun quite sad. For, you see, although the sun is also a large mass of gas, it was also a creature of habit, ruled by its emotions, and it was so hurt by the King’s excommunication that the sun turned its back on the land forever more. The sun kept her hands in her tweed jacket, and lined her cornrows with golf tees. It was quite a sight, and also an award winning heartbreak.

And so Xarby Days grew colder. Colder…Colder…And colder still. Cavemen were moved to tears, philistines didn’t rewind their rental videos, and a trench was dug thirteen feet deep. This trench was to be filled with the tastiest herbs and spices this side of the moon. And who would dig this trench? Who would be so bold, so stupid, and so awesome as to dig a trench, but Leonards forefathers? For you see, in addition to being a swinging bachelor, Leonard was also a fulltime assistant for a part time old coot downtown. But in addition to being a minimum wage slave, in addition to being a jump rope champ, he was also a subarctic mole person. His name was Leonard.

The mole people were a lazily industrious breed, content to slug about in the earths deep dish molten lava crust, some countless yards beneath the dirt, where it was deep dark and damp. And very cold.