Been a bit of a 36 hours.
That last plush unicorn created a terrifying chain reaction. The mass of plush unicorns shoved into the Moot House was sufficient to generate what is technically called a unicornity. And they fused into one giant unicorn.
The massive unicorn lifted the Moot House up on its back like a giant, weird (obviously) unicorn-tortoise hybrid and started frolicking around the grounds.
Pity poor Drayton Parslow who, going for his daily prayer walk where he calls down condemnation on all his neighbours, saw a giant plush rainbow unicorn wrapped in a place of worship, and assumed it was a sign of the End. He fell on his knees and begged not to be eaten.
I'm not criticising him. Who can say they would not have done the same, in his situation? Could happen to any of us.
The mega-unicorn however continued to gallop through the community. Noticing the barn where we press apples and doilies, it charged in for a snack. In the process smashing both the Moot House and the roof of the barn.
It then made the mistake of falling into the brook. Now this is a big unicorn, and a small stream. But you know how plush toys soak up water. It just slowed it for a moment as its feet got heavy. Put its feet back in the brook. Got a bit heavier...
You get the idea. Eventually the sodden, muddy beast toppled over sideways. The component original unicorns popped out, in a manner you could only imagine if you'd seen Gremlins. They danced in a magical, ethereal circle for a moment. And then reverted to plush immobility.
So we're Moot House-less again. Goodness knows it's caught fire or exploded enough times. But being smashed while on the back of a giant unicorn is a new one. Looks like we're back in Bogwulf Chapel for a while.
Poor Drayton, his expectations of being eaten are a direct result of his judgmental attitude towards everyone but him self. Perhaps he should have been eaten, but imagine the Unicorn's indigestion that would have resulted - it'd be passing wind until dooms day.
ReplyDeleteThe Wrapture has come
ReplyDelete