“No one's forcing you to do anything.”
Darth Vader* #quote
People wonder why we drive in a parkway and park in a driveway. I know why. Many years ago a word witch cast a curse to switch around the words to confuse us as a prank. Anyway onto the flash fiction!
Life Of A Slime
The slime was a primitive monster. The simplest kind the barely sentient green ooze birthed whenever clumps of magic stuck to something icky or gross. Usually the manure of animals. Adventures killed slimes to harvest their magic because they went down easy, even easier than imps or goblins. Usually their strongest defense was a poison. And a horrible smell. The smell deterred adventurers and predators more than anything.
Though pathetic, the little things they were happy. The monster jello wobbled to move and search for food. Magic herbs could fill its hunger. It didn't take much for it to be happy. And it was far too ignorant of anything to know of fear, hate, or anything else. It just wobbled along towards food and enjoyed it when it did.
Until someone kills it the saddest the slime ever feels is when a turtle beats it to its food.