WeeKelda wrote:Quite a long time later...
Douglas McDermatFloofy III looked at his father's sword. He picked it up. He dropped it again, sucking his fingers. He glanced at the manual. " Hold it at ye blunt end, ye fool" He read, very slowly. Feeling proud at his feat, after all it had only taken half an hour, He reversed the sword and tried again. A surge of power didn't come up his arm, red fire didn't dance before his eyes but it did feel right.
He tried waving it around in front of him, as he had seen the older men in the village do when they played with each other. The sword certainly felt much heavier than it looked, and as it slowly thumped against a wooden column, Doug's clammy fingers lost their grip and he plunged head-first into the remains of the cooking-fire. The fire, not having quite gone out yet, spread itself to Doug's bushy hair. And as he ran around screaming like a little girl to get the flames out, it dawned on him that maybe, maybe
he didn't quite have the upper-body strength to wield his fathers sword, thin and lanky as he were.
"It's difficult to produce a television documentary that is both incisive and probing when every twelve minutes you are interrupted by dancing rabbits singing about toilet paper"