A small fire lights up the center of a small clearing in the woods, feebly pushing back the darkness that threatens to claim it. In front of the fire sits a small marble carving... a carving of a long-dead dragon. Polished to a mirror-finish, it gleams in the firelight. Suddenly, a midnight-black raven drops out of the air and into the fire, screaming out with it's terrible, terrified voice, begging for a release from it's seemingly endless torture.

Moments later, all is quiet.

A deep rumble suddenly manisfests the land... a crack opens and the small fire disappears into it's depths and is swallowed.

A sound like the screeching of twisting ice fills the void... a portal opens.

From within it's firey dimensions steps out an enormous, evil-seeming satire. Drool seeps from it's mouth and drips onto the grass beneath, setting it aflame... beneath it, the earth seems to wither away like a slug suddenly finding itself in a cavern of salt...

Behind the creature, the fires soon die out and are replaced by huge, glassy floors of smoking ice, the tortured faces of damned visible to the observant...

The satire takes a step forward, then looks around. Drool continues to seep from the corner of his mouth, while his malevolent orange eyes quickly scan the surroundings. Upon seeing the statue of the Dragon, which still sits in front of the dying embers of the fire, he utters a scream of joy and merriment. Even the tortured faces of the damned, who stop their moaning and whining for a second, seem mightily confused as they watch the satire running to the fire in big childlike leaps, laughing and singing all the while.

"Aha! That is where I buried my last chocolate donut!"

Having watched this strange scene unfold from behind the nearby trunk of an ancient sequoia, an old, oversized wyrm vainly attempts to stifle a deep rumble emanating from his innards and distractedly registers a ropey strand of his own drool trailing to the forest floor. He then begins to hatch out a plan in his mind.

The satire reaches the center of the clearing and, having knocked aside the pristine dragon statue as if it were no more than a reed, begins to stamp around and rip up great clods of soil and rock - casting them in all directions in frenzied pursuit of its quarry.

Within moments, the evil-looking satire ceases its obsessive clawing and gouging into the ruined earth, becomes very still, and then reaches carefully down into the formidable pit it has just brought into being.

At that precise moment Ancient Fat Dragon, huffing and puffing laboriously, comes lumbering up from behind the deeply engrossed satire. With a mighty shove and a powerful exhalation of dragon breath, the fat old serpent sends the startled satire tumbling horns over hooves, back through the portal from whence it came.

Then, reaching gingerly into the momentarily abandoned pit, AFD retrieves a small rune-covered box of carved obsidian, licks his chops, and contentedly mumbles, " ... Mmmm ... I *love* chocolate ..."

At that precise moment, a pinhole gateway opens, and King of Sloth's inner troll reaches out and grabs the donut with a sound suspiciously like *yoink*, leaving the esteeemed AFD with but a claw's worth of doughnut. The arm slips through the pinhole vortex, which closes to the sound of donut being munched.

Throughout the land people heard the satire screaming aloud through the night, "Alas poor donut, I knew him well. If I could remember the rest of this soliliquey, I would be able to avenge his consumption." And so, the Satire set out to discover the lines with which to avenge teh consumption of his poor donut. The Satire left the forest that night, never to return until ten minutes later, when he picked up the sack he had left behind.

And then, there were six. Donuts, that is. Six plump Jelly donuts fall from the sky, and start dancing around AFD. AFD eats them hungrily, only to be attacked by an army of buttered toast!

Three rings for elven-kings under the sky
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone
Nine for mortal men doomed to die,
One for the dark lord on his dark throne
In the land of Mordor where the Shadows ie
One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them
One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie

(By the good Graces of Paladia, DarkSwordsman, Novan and Oblivion)

"One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them"

The evening of poetry is over. After the lukewarm clapping of the unimpressed crowd subsides, everybody storms out into the lunchroom where denim-clad Elves proceed to serve chocolate donuts and sandwiches with peanut butter. The sound of munching and swallowing fills the entire room for 25 minutes precisely.