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Klinkflock laughed as the ugly little man with the big fork charged him. He stepped to the side, and asked the man if he would like to join him for lunch. Klinkflock loved cheese. He threw his Woxabur Exaim into the sky, and instantly it dissapered, as well as the fireworks. The little man with the fork would not go away, so he pulled out his Bomcarn Twabir from beneath his coat. He had spent three years whittiling it himself, from the tree of Edeti, that he had traded his two middle toes for. It was a stout and strong weapon, and the Ulerirt's say that anyone that whittles their own weapon from this tree, that it will never be broken. He held it up just as the fork jabbed at him again. The weapons slammed together and gave off a mighty sound. Nefir laughed at Klinkflock, as he had never seen a man as ugly as himself until he. This tall spindly man's face was so long and droopy it looked like a left over green bean from thanksgiving in June. His nostrils were oval and full of hair. His teeth were perfectly straight and long, and looked somewhat like piano keys. Then he looked into his eyes. The eyes were black, and as Klinkflock looked back, he could see a bit of kindness in them. They stopped for a moment and just stared at each other.
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And as she plays,
her sweet song of laughter
floats through the air
and warms my heart
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