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I was once told of an old man who lived in East Granby, back during colonial times, who planned a kingdom to be built from stone on a vast tract of land deeded to him by the regionís earliest settlers. Over the course of two score years through toil and sweat and, yes, his very blood, he built a rampart and tower, a moat and a castle. High up in the tower lived his mother-in-law, who, having studied witchcraft in Bristol, had been hatching a plot to play a nasty trick upon the man. For, ever since she learned her only daughter was to be betrothed him, she had hated him, being very attached to her daughter, and having weaned her only a fortnight before.

The old mother-in-law disguised herself in maidenís gowns and a full veil, and perched on a bench in the gardens, past which she knew the man oft passed.

"Ah, thereís mummy playing the maiden again, which usually means that she'll let me fuck her right here in the garden," thought the old man as he came upon her. He dropped his trouser and the witchcraft worked its magic, if you know what I mean. I mean, she rode his broomstick. She polished his magic want. He pulled a fucking bunny out! Abraca-fucking-dabra!

Date Written: April 16, 2002
Author: Ewan Snow
Average Vote: 3.6667

Comments:
04/30/2004 TheBuyer (5): Abrca-fucking-dabra, everybody wins.
04/30/2004 John Slocum (3): I'm not partial to that last paragraph. I don't find it funny (although I like the rest of the short) and I'd be happy to deconstruct it.
05/1/2004 Mr. Pony: moat?
05/1/2004 Jon Matza: That's right, Pony: moat.
05/1/2004 Ferucio P. Chhretan: Thanks Pony. I didn't want to ask.
05/1/2004 Will Disney: I love the first phrase of this one.
05/2/2004 Benny Maniacs (3): I just didn't find much humor in the garden.