Thursday, January 1, 2015

Luck Less Monster

My name is William Wallace and my specialty is Freedom.  The story that I am about to tell is not for the meek and mild of ye. Be ye Brave at Heart and listen to my vastly tale. Listen closely laddie and I will tell you the real story of the lake before you can draw and quarter a highlander.

The story begins in the Shire of Spartansburg ,but a league from the lazy hamlet of Simpsonville.

Come down from the highland is but hisself, The Laddie of the Lake, Sir Quinn of the Noisy Rear and his sidekick,

NoSir the Pointed Head also known as Old Slant Eyes.

Recently returned from quest to find Bubba's BBQ, Old Slant eyes had an amazing tale to tell … a tale of fossils of ancient birds … a tale of a lake and a monster. For proof, he held in his hands the fossilized head of the giant blue heron.

A giant fossil head of a bird who lived a million years ago along the shores of what is today, Lake Johnson. But legend is that another creature …  fiercer … more terrifying still roams those shores. The very creature that Sir Quinn would seek,

The Luck Less Monster

But how to find the monster … how to proceed?  Sir Quinn knew that he must consult the Master for the help he would need  and he journeyed to the House of the Fou Dog and bestower of all-you-can eat fried food and noodle palace.

He hid his face … for the forests are full of many eyes, and noses are in search of businesses not of their own making.

He balanced the sacred thread of truth upon his lips for all to see.

His reward … embedded inside the sacred folded cookie of wisdom was the Masters answer.

Don't Take Wooden Nickels

Sir Quinn and NoSir Bruce set forth.

There was no path but the One … the straight and narrow one.

And soon there were signs of he, the one they sought. He had laid the forest to waste.

And then , he made a startling discover about the Luck Less Monster.

First, Sir Quinn found that the monster loves to poop inside of hollow trees. And it, the poop that is, is white!


Secondly, it, the poop that is, is actually marshmallow poop … a tell-tail sign that the Luck Less Monster had been there.

Sir Quinn decided to seek the Oracle of the Beech Tree concerning how to defeat the monster. However, the Oracle was in Scotland.


There was not enough time to go there. Sir Quinn was hot on the trail - those marshmallows were toasted. Luckily, he was still under the protection of the wisdom of the folded cookie and a soft, strong voice spoke from above in a poor Scottish accent:

"All will be revealed if you seek the Son of the Beech that bears your name".

 Sir Quinn's reply, "we seek the sacred tree".

He looked high ….

He opened the door to Wonderland.

The Son of a Beech was found … but it would not give up its secrets. That is until Sir Quinn pulled his trusty knife and began to carve …

and the Beech screamed, "Don't be a sap, Read the sign".

That was the answer. He would set a trap for the monster just outside the sign, lure him out, and let him have it.

First, to cut sweet boughs of sassafras … The Luck Less Monster loves the smell.


I shall tie some food for the beast on the spike along the river … something he cannot resist. NoSir Bruce of the Pointed Head, where are you?

I shall close the portal to Wonderland. The monster shall not flee down the rabbit hole.

I shall fell great oaks to cage the monster in.

I shall tame the beast, ride him like a pony, and he shall sleep in my stables.

Be not deceived. I smile the smile of determination. The Monster shall be mine.

And when he is gone, I shall fish,safe and secure,  for my supper. 

And taste sweets and the sweetness of life.

It shall be  …

for I am Sir Quinn,

the Laddie of the Lake.

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