I was sitting on my front porch enjoying unemployment and playing my magical guitar named Samantha that fateful Friday afternoon. A man descended from the skies with winged sandals. As I stared up at him, being blinded by the sun I tried to discern who this mystery man was. At first I thought it was quicksilver Hermes bringing a message from the gods, but envision my surprise as my brother-in-law-in-law Khrushchev, son of Russell, grandson of Aphrodite herself. He brought news of a great council. Heroes of the area were being summoned forth to man a keep, a house of sorts. No normal dwelling, but a house some say is enchanted, others possessed; a monster.
The next day I had packed my bindle and strapped Samantha to my back and trekked off to this place of legend. When I arrived, I feasted my eyes on the edifice. A stoic brick building with windows like eyes and a door just beckoning you to be swallowed. As soon as I saw it, I knew it must be tamed.
Mark, Khrushchev and their man Eli were waiting for me. Eli had the smile of Brad Pitt and hair like a golden blaze. Women were constantly fawning over him and were it not for his hero-heart, which kept him on adventures, he would no doubt be over-whelmed. We entered the beast and set about exploring its depths and bowels. The subtle intricacies bowed to our inquiries and we settled in await our destiny.
Alas, the troop was not complete and we waited on our undecided fellows, would Rocky, a face like stone, and Patrick, a wonder with his hands, join our cause?
