“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.
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