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The Tale of Mr. Peanut and Friends
Jun. 1st, 2003 09:02 pmMr. Peanut was a svelte peanut, though his swelled head made walking through doorways difficult. Mr. Peanut was an ordinary earth-grown peanut, and he prided himself on his earthen knowledge. His best friend was Mr. M, a water-logged earthworm. Mr. M hadn't always been water-logged. Under scientific advice, Mr. M had inched his way to a barren expanse of dirt. To gain the knowledge of creation Mr. M stared skyward, counting the raindrops and determining their secret pattern. He stared and stared, and his body ballooned with absorbed water. Everyone grew used to Mr. M's sloshing, gooey mass. Mr. M quickly forgot he’d ever been anything different.
It filled Mr. Peanut with peanut buttery pride to survey his domain. He rode upon his nag of noble girth, Pork Rind, and scooped Mr. M into the saddlebag. Mr. M’s head lolled out of the bag and flopped back and forth as Pork Rind cantered along the lands of swamp and rot.
Mr. Peanut was a vision of charisma in his armor of smoke and mirrors: the wizened elder, the cosmic sage, the just leader. Mr. Peanut's people followed the wise old 'nut unquestioningly. How could anyone doubt such a kind, maligned 'nut's words? Why, if someone were to do so they would have to be wrong, without question.
Despite an ever-expanding territory and a devoted kingdom, Mr. Peanut wasn't happy. Even Mr. Peanut's jesters and Mr. M's mad theorems ceased to make him feel joy. Mr. Peanut's rides on Pork Rind helped, but nothing could fill the void in his heart. Not even meditating with his peanut butter soul.
In the wee hours, Mr. Peanut used his crystalscope to spy on worlds beyond his kingdom. Far off he found a tall, plain tower. It thrust high above a carpet of trees and mountain peaks. Mr. Peanut held his breath in wonder. Inside a tower window animals laughed and played. They helped one another. They listened to each other. Mr. Peanut remembered that feeling once, before his head swelled. This made Mr. Peanut furious with envy. Despite his vast lands and countless minions, Mr. Peanut's people were not equals. They did not treat him as an equal, but as a messiah. While he was fond of this, he also missed what he witnessed in the far away tower window.
Mr. Peanut rallied his people: the fierce winged snowmen, the gallant vampiric cacti, and the puffer fish with scent glands. Mr. Peanut was angry, and the people puffed up at his passion. Their eyes glazed with bloodlust and unquestioning loyalty.
To ruffle Mr. M's ire, Mr. Peanut convinced the worm that the animals in the far away tower were responsible for the scientist prompting him to stare up at the rain and become water-logged. Blind with fury, Mr. M shook with gelatinous rage and vowed to made the far away animals pay.
At dawn Mr. Peanut's were-horns resounded. Mr. Peanut polished his precious armor of smoke and mirrors and donned them with reverence. Mr. Peanut conducted a mighty ceremony of a culture not his own and performed wrong to boot. He then straddled his nag of noble girth, Pork Rind, and helped Mr. M slosh into the saddlebag.
Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, the army, even Pork Rind were amazed at the lack of security in the strange land. There were no fences, there were no traps. There weren't even guards! The tower had no moat, and the drawbridge was down. The courtyard was perfectly exposed.
A bee bumbled by, swimming through the air in loop-de-loops. It stopped abruptly inches from Mr. Peanut's scowling face. Mr. Peanut slowly raised a nutty hand to swat the bee. In the nick of time the bee backpedaled and zoomed into the courtyard.
On the count of three, Mr. Peanut planned to cross the bridge and proclaim the courtyard, tower, land, and occupants as his.
Before he counted to one, the drawbridge slammed unexpectedly shut. Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, Pork Rind and the army exchanged quizzical looks. Insulted, Mr. Peanut's head seemed to swell even bigger and took on a ruddy hue of indescribable wrath. He ordered his winged snowmen to fly over the courtyard walls and to destroy all in their path. The snowmen saluted their elder and sped upward, zooming toward the courtyard. As they reached their goal, giant balls of smoldering lava slapped into their frigid frames. The snowmen evaporated, wings first.
Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, and the remainder of the army shouted with rage. Next went the vampiric cacti. Using their hulking cactus forms in unison as a mass battering ram, they flung themselves at the closed drawbridge. The wood shuddered with each onslaught, then splintered. The army rejoiced and flooded the courtyard… only to find themselves waist deep in steaming magma! Amid their pained squealing, Mr. Peanut shrieked his displeasure. He ordered the puffer fish with scent glands in to poison the place and its occupants. If this kingdom could not be his, then no one would have it.
As the puffer fish bounced from one shrieking cactus head to another working their way in, suddenly a swarm of killer bees dive-bombed them. Before the puffers could release their sent, the bees stung them off balance and they fell, ker-plunk, into the magma!
Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, and Pork Rind were all that were left of their army. Mr. Peanut summoned the strength of his peanutty ancestors and struck a dramatic pose. Mr. M formulated the correct equation to smite the infidels who dared to oppose Mr. Peanut. Pork Rind snuffled and chewed her cud.
The lava from the courtyard oozed out as Mr. Peanut was striking a dramatic pose and Mr. M was calculating. The lava had completely engulfed them before they realized it, so caught up in their positions were they.
It filled Mr. Peanut with peanut buttery pride to survey his domain. He rode upon his nag of noble girth, Pork Rind, and scooped Mr. M into the saddlebag. Mr. M’s head lolled out of the bag and flopped back and forth as Pork Rind cantered along the lands of swamp and rot.
Mr. Peanut was a vision of charisma in his armor of smoke and mirrors: the wizened elder, the cosmic sage, the just leader. Mr. Peanut's people followed the wise old 'nut unquestioningly. How could anyone doubt such a kind, maligned 'nut's words? Why, if someone were to do so they would have to be wrong, without question.
Despite an ever-expanding territory and a devoted kingdom, Mr. Peanut wasn't happy. Even Mr. Peanut's jesters and Mr. M's mad theorems ceased to make him feel joy. Mr. Peanut's rides on Pork Rind helped, but nothing could fill the void in his heart. Not even meditating with his peanut butter soul.
In the wee hours, Mr. Peanut used his crystalscope to spy on worlds beyond his kingdom. Far off he found a tall, plain tower. It thrust high above a carpet of trees and mountain peaks. Mr. Peanut held his breath in wonder. Inside a tower window animals laughed and played. They helped one another. They listened to each other. Mr. Peanut remembered that feeling once, before his head swelled. This made Mr. Peanut furious with envy. Despite his vast lands and countless minions, Mr. Peanut's people were not equals. They did not treat him as an equal, but as a messiah. While he was fond of this, he also missed what he witnessed in the far away tower window.
Mr. Peanut rallied his people: the fierce winged snowmen, the gallant vampiric cacti, and the puffer fish with scent glands. Mr. Peanut was angry, and the people puffed up at his passion. Their eyes glazed with bloodlust and unquestioning loyalty.
To ruffle Mr. M's ire, Mr. Peanut convinced the worm that the animals in the far away tower were responsible for the scientist prompting him to stare up at the rain and become water-logged. Blind with fury, Mr. M shook with gelatinous rage and vowed to made the far away animals pay.
At dawn Mr. Peanut's were-horns resounded. Mr. Peanut polished his precious armor of smoke and mirrors and donned them with reverence. Mr. Peanut conducted a mighty ceremony of a culture not his own and performed wrong to boot. He then straddled his nag of noble girth, Pork Rind, and helped Mr. M slosh into the saddlebag.
Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, the army, even Pork Rind were amazed at the lack of security in the strange land. There were no fences, there were no traps. There weren't even guards! The tower had no moat, and the drawbridge was down. The courtyard was perfectly exposed.
A bee bumbled by, swimming through the air in loop-de-loops. It stopped abruptly inches from Mr. Peanut's scowling face. Mr. Peanut slowly raised a nutty hand to swat the bee. In the nick of time the bee backpedaled and zoomed into the courtyard.
On the count of three, Mr. Peanut planned to cross the bridge and proclaim the courtyard, tower, land, and occupants as his.
Before he counted to one, the drawbridge slammed unexpectedly shut. Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, Pork Rind and the army exchanged quizzical looks. Insulted, Mr. Peanut's head seemed to swell even bigger and took on a ruddy hue of indescribable wrath. He ordered his winged snowmen to fly over the courtyard walls and to destroy all in their path. The snowmen saluted their elder and sped upward, zooming toward the courtyard. As they reached their goal, giant balls of smoldering lava slapped into their frigid frames. The snowmen evaporated, wings first.
Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, and the remainder of the army shouted with rage. Next went the vampiric cacti. Using their hulking cactus forms in unison as a mass battering ram, they flung themselves at the closed drawbridge. The wood shuddered with each onslaught, then splintered. The army rejoiced and flooded the courtyard… only to find themselves waist deep in steaming magma! Amid their pained squealing, Mr. Peanut shrieked his displeasure. He ordered the puffer fish with scent glands in to poison the place and its occupants. If this kingdom could not be his, then no one would have it.
As the puffer fish bounced from one shrieking cactus head to another working their way in, suddenly a swarm of killer bees dive-bombed them. Before the puffers could release their sent, the bees stung them off balance and they fell, ker-plunk, into the magma!
Mr. Peanut, Mr. M, and Pork Rind were all that were left of their army. Mr. Peanut summoned the strength of his peanutty ancestors and struck a dramatic pose. Mr. M formulated the correct equation to smite the infidels who dared to oppose Mr. Peanut. Pork Rind snuffled and chewed her cud.
The lava from the courtyard oozed out as Mr. Peanut was striking a dramatic pose and Mr. M was calculating. The lava had completely engulfed them before they realized it, so caught up in their positions were they.
