05-02-2018, 05:52 PM
When General Washington repelled the first reptilian invasion in 1776, we thought we'd seen the last of them. But, alas, it wasn't so.
Lewis and Clark found the Louisiana Purchase teeming with reptilians and reptilian-human hybrids. The Sioux had had minor success at slowing their encroachment, but their bows and flint arrowheads were no match for directed energy weapons. Something had to be done.
Trix and my horse set about working up a binding spell while I went down to Mexico to rustle up reinforcements. The banditos shrugged and said they didn't have a dog in the fight.
Next, I appealed to the Negro free states down South, but they were still nursing a grudge against the white man despite having won their freedom in that famous landmark Supreme Court case in 1806.
As I mosied back to St. Louis to see how Trix and my horse were coming along, they came galloping up. Trix was covered in mud from head to toe.
"What happened to you?" I asked her.
"Well," she said, "the spell worked -- sort of -- but it had an unexpected side-effect."
"What kind of side-effect?" I tried not to snicker at her soiled condition.
Trix mopped a dab of mud from her brow and slung it at me. I ducked.
"We conjured the river gods to rise up and drown the lizard people as they crossed the Mississippi, which they did. But after the river swelled up, it plopped back down again and splattered mud all over the countryside."
"At least the cornfields will be fertile this year," I replied with a shrug.
Trix feigned flinging more mud, but waited for me to duck before she flung it. Hit me right in the face that time. My horse snickered.
"Meh, shuddup," I said.
Lewis and Clark found the Louisiana Purchase teeming with reptilians and reptilian-human hybrids. The Sioux had had minor success at slowing their encroachment, but their bows and flint arrowheads were no match for directed energy weapons. Something had to be done.
Trix and my horse set about working up a binding spell while I went down to Mexico to rustle up reinforcements. The banditos shrugged and said they didn't have a dog in the fight.
Next, I appealed to the Negro free states down South, but they were still nursing a grudge against the white man despite having won their freedom in that famous landmark Supreme Court case in 1806.
As I mosied back to St. Louis to see how Trix and my horse were coming along, they came galloping up. Trix was covered in mud from head to toe.
"What happened to you?" I asked her.
"Well," she said, "the spell worked -- sort of -- but it had an unexpected side-effect."
"What kind of side-effect?" I tried not to snicker at her soiled condition.
Trix mopped a dab of mud from her brow and slung it at me. I ducked.
"We conjured the river gods to rise up and drown the lizard people as they crossed the Mississippi, which they did. But after the river swelled up, it plopped back down again and splattered mud all over the countryside."
"At least the cornfields will be fertile this year," I replied with a shrug.
Trix feigned flinging more mud, but waited for me to duck before she flung it. Hit me right in the face that time. My horse snickered.
"Meh, shuddup," I said.
