Grandmother story...

Ok, this is a very bad attempt at humor... but what the heck.. its my blog lei... and it makes me feel a bit better...

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There was a clan meetup... and the venerable oak tree told of a prophecy that 5 arrows will be shot at our clansmen. As we anticipated the arrows, one flew out of the sky and hit an elf. Just as I was counting my luck, another 4 came out of the sky and aimed directly at me. I tried running, but got hit by 4 arrows. As I got hit, I mumbled "*&^%&$%#", then got back to my den.

The next day, as I was contemplating on how to deal with the 4 arrows, which were still stuck at my behind, a fifth one appears and hits me from below. I jumped and yelped...and then tried to pull out the arrow, but to no success, as the arrow was lodged deep underneath. Cursing my luck, I tried to chip on the arrow bit by bit, hoping it would come out sooner or later.

The following day, in the wee hours of morning, when the birds just started chirping, the venerable oak tree appeared and was carrying a big silvermane bow with an arrow. This arrow was a bit different. According to the oak tree, this arrow will negate another arrow that was shot at me before I got shot by the 4 arrows, leaving the wound there, but making the previous arrow unaccounted for. "The previous arrow will no longer be considered as an arrow" said the venerable oak tree. And then pulls out the bow and aims it at my behind. Getting used to the pain and believeing it's fated, I turned over and accepted the next arrow.

Just when I thought that it was the end of the arrows being shot, considering that my behind was only that big and could only accomodate a certain number of arrows, another arrow appears out of nowhere and plunges into the depths of whatever is left of my behind.

Feeling numb, but still needing to tend to the 7 arrows, I went to see a witchdoctor. The witchdoctor told me that it is normal to be shot by 7 arrows and to accept that the arrows will come out eventually, but will be replenished shortly afterwords, as part of the clan ritual. His last words of wisdom, before I left his hut, was "either go to another clan....or...increase the size of your behind!".