One upon a time there lived a very small man inside the hammock that hangs in my garden. He had only two fingers, the middle of each hand so that wherever he went, he a) couldn’t work, and b) he could insult those he disagreed with. He lost his fingers in an unfortunate hammering accident, and praises his guardian angel that he can still give people the finger. He prays every day, but finds it difficult to put his hands together, so he uses his feet. They do smell rather bad, but he always pegs his nose and gets over it. Sometimes he is brought to the brink of death because the fumes are so strong, but he knows he must pray to his angel, and so he continues to put his naked feet together and celebrate his victory over the unfortunate hammering accident. Which, by the way, if you’re interested, was no fault of his own. It was actually caused by the factory’s resident gopher, Kevin, who had started to build a nest in the screwdriver machine. The very small man had approached it and been scared half to death by the huge teeth surrounded by a gopher face, and fell over backwards. His flailing arm, yes, only one, I will explain later, was caught in the conveyor belt and pulled towards the hammering section. Therefore, he lost his hand, and a lot of blood. Back to his singular hand… the other arm was actually belted around his waist because it was national one-arm week, and he was raising money for charity. He lost the fingers on that hand because he thought his hands now looked rather uneven, so he smashed his other hand in the second hammer conveyor, the first one having been ripped away for Kevin’s nest. Who, if you hadn’t already realised, thinks he is a girl. He wants kids, bless him. The disfigured man, however, does not. He is not really angry at Kevin, because he realises that Kevin is just some poor messed-up gopher that was taken away from his home without his favourite doll. Some nights, the two of them get together and drink banana pie juice, straight from the carton, and sing mad songs about their troubles. If they feel up to it, they even go out bowling, though the man of course does not actually do any bowling, due to his lack of grip. Neither does the gopher, as rodents are rather too small to pick up the balls and no kind and thoughtful person has actually created any small enough for them yet. So, rather than bowl, they sit and watch others. They even laugh, especially if someone falls over. Their motto is: “No matter how bad life gets, you can still go out into the wide world and find something amusing that will take all the worry away, even if it is only for a second.” Whether this means seeking amusement from entertainment, or just getting a giggling fix from some poor unfortunate who’s having a bad day, the feeling and meaning is the same: Laughing is a sworn cure of depression and warts.

A/N- No gophers were harmed in the making of this story.
P.s- This was written when I was very bored and so please excuse me for the awfulness in which it wallows. I had recently watched Goldmember with the class and thus the hammering accident. (If you do not know what on Earth I am talking about, errr... watch the film? I cannot mention it here...:D