[This story was originally written in the forums, where the original copy can still be found. This was, in fact, the closest thing to a story first written on Reality's End, so it is naturally full of non-story elements, which have been purposefully left to convey the confusion caused and to show just how much writing has advanced here.]

Once there was a magickal land by the name of Ref. It was a phantastical domain occupied by a large assortment of freaks and rejects, er, I mean worthy people... who were cool... and did not suck... yeah. Anyhoo, one day, misfortune came to this marvelous kingdom. It seemed like any other day.

Far off from the main land, but not too far away from the tavern (for weakness of mead), reclined the grotesque, green goit under the shade of an aged tree. The peace, tho', was shattered, much like the goblin wished unto the skull of the intruder, as footsteps pounded up the gnoll.

"Gobbo," the voice shouted, "It's terrible! A grave crisis has befallen the world of Ref!"

With the brim of his wide hat still lowered over this eyes, he uncaringly inquired, "Does this affect me getting food in any way?"

"Nnnnnnnyes," the oncomer changed to lie. "And its the worse kind of evil to ever come, too. It's -"

The goblin threw himself from his lay with boggled eyes, screaming "No, not that! Anything but that!!!"

"Yes," his fears were confirmed. "It's ... SPAM!!!"

"Mmm, Spam..." The kobold's horror turned to delight as he was whisked away in savory thoughts of devouring the magical mystery meat. He could almost taste the slimy flesh-like compound melting in his mouth. The dream was shattered by a retch.

"Aww, dude. Why are you chomping down on that racoon pile?" the visitor questioned. Confused, the lunatic turned to find a banded bandit clung to the tree behind him, who, after maliciously giggling, scrurried up the tree.

"Oddly enough," Mad Goblin noted, "it tastes the same."

"That doesn't mean you have to finish it off," the other continued, whencing in disgust.

"Oh, of course it does," the fiend replied, licking his fingers. "Now then, what were we talking about? ... oh yeah, food! Man, I sure wish I had some right now," he trailed off again, looking for some other steaming wad to consume.

"I'll feed you later, re-re, but, right now, we have to save Ref, remember?"

Shaken from his food crazed stupor, he finally responded. "Huh? Oh yeah, that stuff. Sure, I'll help you, er... who are you again?"

"'Who am I'? We've only met, like, a hundred times-" stopping mid-speech, it was then realized the large number of empty booze bottles that piled around faerie-kin. "Oh... right. Well, my drunkardly oaf, until the next time I have to remind you, I am ..."

"No one." And at that, the man vanished. The goblin sat in shade, wide-eyed at the events that had just transpired. He looked over to a field of emptied bottles and shook his head. "I must be building up a tolerance. That hallucination was nothing compared to that last one..." he drifted off, fondly remembering Nate, the talking lemming with wings made out of potato chips. "This can only mean one thing," announced the fiend, rising and holding a finger toward the city of Ref on the horizon. "I need to get more al-cohol!"

And off went our hero, down a well trodden path, until he got bored. So, he decided to take a slightly more adventurous one.

Thirty-two hours of being lost in the Dark Forest of Death and Many Sharp, Hurty Things later....

"I know there is supposed to be a short-cut around here somewhere. It would help if these trees would stop moving around... and trying to kill me."

"Hey man," responded one of the trees, "we didin come inta you'h home lookin' delishus, man." He looked down over his gaunt, grotesque, and reviling frame strewn about with what filthy scraps he felt like covering with.

"Yeah, I'm pretty good, huh?" he agreed. "I remember the time I tried to eat myse-- waitaminute!" exclaimed he. "Why do you want to eat me? You're trees!"

"Hey man," responded the tree. "Why ya godda be like that, huh? We just like da taste of you'h blood, man."

"Well I like the taste of lots of things blood, but you don't see my cutting the heads off of and drinking the precious fluids of everything around me, do you?"

"Well, no," gave in the tree. "Wait, man, what ya sayin', man? That all ya done sin' ya got he'e, man!"

"Those squirrels had it coming to them," rationalized the goblin. "They were, uh, evil."

"Say," realized the servent of Ghob, "trees don't have blood, do they?" As he spoke, his enormous, jagged-edged claymore was pulled from seemingly nowhere.

"No, man. No, man. No. I dun think so. A'ight," denied the forestry. "We have sap, man, okay. Sap is na'cha friendly. Blood is the tool of consahvatives and... Hitlah."

"But it still is squishy and delectable, right?" he put to the tree while, for some reason, wearing a bib displaying himself consuming a tree on it. After a pause, the tree finally let out a sigh.

"Yes, it be sweet an' tasty an' ya put it all ovah you'h pancakes to make 'em fine." It received a queer look from the goblin. "Oh, uh... 'man'," it tagged on, earning a nod of approval from the faerie-freak, just before he started up his chainsaw. "Wait, man, wha's wit the saw? I thought ya had a sah'd?"

"Psch! Like anyone's paying attention to what's going on!" he stated.

"I was," the oak quietly rebutted. Quickly thinking, it spoke out once more, "Wait, man. Ya don wanna haht me. For, um... I hold da key to you'h quest... and stuff." Intrigued, the humanoid ceased the hacking.

"Stuff, you say? Very well, go on," he permitted. He quickly fabricated a tale.

"Man, de'e's a mystical palace of... eh... Seven 'levens, a'ight, man. And you must seek out this domain to retrive da ... oh, c'mon, man, think... da Chili Dog of Amazin'... Value! And... brin' it back he'e. Oo, an' a small Coke."

"Gotcha, one chili dog and a vial of coccain. I know that kingdom well!"

"No, man, I meant- ... yeah, dat's 'ight. Now be snappy. Ah'ma hung'y. Eh, I mean... destiny is. ... yeah."

And at that moment he was off for his dog and drugs, on his way smiting many supposedly evil yet cute looking squirrels. And then for absolutely no reason, a gigantic banana boat fell from the sky, with hundreds of midget elvis impersonators onboard. The small goblin then walked away because that would make his quest much too strange, but one midget approached him and said with an akward tone in his words, "hi." Then Mad goblin slaughtered them all and stole their giant banana boat which I forgot to mention had wings. He then floated many bajillion miles upward when he discovered he had forgotten to kill the huge nude amazon woman hiding on his head the whole time. THEN SUDDENLY.....

... he realized just how much he drank.

"Dangs, man. I must be loaded!," the ghobling said, casting aside an emtpied flask. "I mean, it seems like that entire day just shot by in a few, blurry, undefined minutes (with occasionally poor spelling and grammer) that left much still wanting answered. Wouldn't you agree, Flyria, the Talking-Jell-o-Mold-Formed-Glob-of-Dust-Bunnies-I-Met-On-the-Very-Same-Voyage?" The TJMFGoDBMGMOtVSV nodded its head, dispelling much of its being into the air. "And, like, what's the deal with this Amazon?" questioned the green one. "Who wants a burly dike who's only half breasted?"

"I believe," noted Flyria, "you're friend, the B.A.M.F. Cheese Judge."

"Oh yeah," Gobbo realized before dismissing the thought. "Nah, he wouldn't. She may be more man than woman, but she's no where near old enough for his tastes.

"Quit your belly achin'," roared the hideously nude amazon, beating her curly haired chest (... ew), "and let us battle to the death - on your head!!!" The freak shrugged to the challenge.

"Fine by me." Leaning against the side of the Flying Banana Boat, which he dubbed "Skippy," he knocked off his hat, and the unsightly Amazoneon as well. But, as she plummeted to a fiery death, she was ... burnt to an undistinguishable crisp... hmm, guess that's the end of her... OR IS IT???

... The answer is yes. Yes, it is... Seriously.

"Hey, speaking of my homophile friend gave me an idea!" pondered the goblin. "We can seek out the Cheese Judge as an easy sourse of crack and a variety of other narcodics!"

"Hey, yeah!" squealed the disturbing pile in its bubbly voice. "That would make your quest a lot easier!"

"Quest?" replied a most puzzled fiend. "What are you talkin' 'bout? I'm just out."

And so, our heroes... or whatever the hell you want them to be called, sailed off to the realm of the Judge when ... *pause for suspense*