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"Daddy!" you yell and hug the albino cave-horse with the weak-armed force
of your mis-directed love. The horse bites you on the eyeball. Thankfully, your great-grandparents having been siblings have given you pronounced eyebrow ridges. Your eye is protected from actual harm. But like most forehead wounds, it bleeds like a stuck pig. You stumble around, blinded by the blood dripping into your eye. Your other eye rolls crazily, never having been much use in the first place. (See: Great-Grandparents). You...
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12/20/2005 5:51:47 AM
Extending Enabled
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