Throughout his life, Gofie was teased for having smaller horns than the other fauns, so he was thrilled to come across a horn enlargement infomercial promising minotaur-sized horns for just three easy payments of twenty gold pieces.

He placed an order and a week later the cream came in the mail. Gofie covered his horns with the ointment before bed, as instructed, and happily drifted off to sleep.

When Gofie awoke, his horns were five times bigger than before! Unfortunately, minotaur horns were much heavier than he’d anticipated, and he couldn’t lift his head off his bed to enjoy them.

Author’s Note: There are some male enhancement ads out there that promise ginormous, uh, results. I saw one that promised results that seemed too big to even be used. That’s what this was a response to.

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December 31st, 2008. 10:46pm:

“We are dangerously low on spirits and my boss just arrived,” Mr. Shepard told his wife, an empty wine glass shaking in his pale hand.

“Calm down,” she responded, “we have plenty more in the cellar.”

“Not that’s been aged!”

Mrs. Shepard sighed. “Go ahead and open the sixty-three then. We’ll just get something else for our anniversary.”

“You’re the best,” Mr. Shepard said, then strolled down to the cellar, past a couple children and an emaciated corpse, and shoved a spout into the chest of a forty-five year old man, then filled pitchers with blood.

Author’s Note: I sometimes wonder if blood enthusiasts would have a preference for blood type as well as year.

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A gigantic buck-toothed troll snatched Henry and I as we were finishing the day’s harvest. He dragged us to a campfire deep in the Mingbat forest, where his friend, a hairy bastard, tied our backs to wooden planks.

While coating me with spices, the hairy troll furrowed his brow and began yelling at the other, pointing to the clusters of red blemishes on my forehead and shoulders. They argued for a few minutes before the buck-toothed one untied me, and then lifted Henry horizontally over the fire to roast.

I ran straight home, thanking the gods that trolls hate acne.

Author’s Note: Some people are so used to their food being visually “perfect” that they won’t buy fruit and vegetables with blemishes. I thought it’d be fun if trolls were just as picky.

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