Once upon a time, there was a horrible little man. His name was Herbert Nerdsson, and he had a hatred of humanity that was so frighteningly strong that he would have been mistaken for a troll, if not for his skinny calves.


Herbert greatly resembled a starving rat, in both looks and personality. He lived out in a wasteland, because he and the townsfolk had come to a mutual disgust. He had set up house in an old gray wooden shack, half buried in an even grayier cave, in which he lurked miserably yet contently in the deep, dank darkness.


Neighboring Herbert's lair was a poor man: a pious old farmer with 87 children and a very bowlegged wife. He had been driven out of town for his devotion to his religion, and so he immigrated to the vast wasteland (which was not New Jersey).


This farmer had 27 roosters, all very vocal. Every day, all day long, from dawn to dusk, they cried out "URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR!URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR!URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR!"

This did not endear the poor farmer to Herbert. Nothing ever endeared anyone to Herbert, actually. However, even the pious farmer's holy men would have been driven to chicken soup after a few days of this.


It took Herbert only 37 minutes.


Herbert, being a sociopath, had several hundred axes just lying around his house. He had so many axes, he had constructed many pieces of furniture out of them, just to keep them out of the way. I do not mean that he built the furniture with axes. I mean that he had a table, an armchair, a sofa, and a water bed all constructed entirely out of axes. After 37 minutes of listening to roosters, Herbert rasped, in his crow-like, nasal voice, "Roosters must be expunged with much kinetics!" (he was a Nerdsson), and, with a noodle-like arm each bearing an axe, he marched out of his hovel and went to work.

Much kinetic energy was expended that night. Scarlet red chicken blood and spongy soft chicken guts and dripping bloody chicken parts lay scattered across the pious old farmer's yard when he awoke. Herbert felt so content after slaughtering all those roosters, he took an icy cold bath in a rusty old washtub to celebrate, and drank a pint of vintage castor oil.


Even the farmer's animals were pious. The hens were in mourning, and had taken up the rooster's cry!


With two axes each in two spindly little arms, Herbert went back to the farmer's yard. Beaks were torn from heads, talons ripped bone by bone from chicken feet, axes were shoved up hen butts, cleaving them in two. Herbert took a long draft from his inhaler and surveyed his handiwork. Surely now the stupid chickens would shut up. Because they were DEAD.



"URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR!", the pious farmer wept. His wife mourned with him: "URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR!". And then his 87 children joined in for a earth-shaking chorus of "URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR! URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR! URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR! URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR! URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR!!!!!"

Bearing three axes on each coat-hanger like clavicle, Herbert slaughtered the farmer, his wife, their 87 children, their dog, then burnt their farmhouse down. All that was left was a smoking pile of ash.

And a cow.


Yes...now the cow was in mourning.



Herbert took up four axes in each bony paw, but before he could set about messily slaughtering anything, he had an asthma attack and passed out for 3 days. He awoke to URKA-URKA-URRRRRRRRRR! Brushing a vulture off the open sore on his neck, he thought better of ax-murdering the cow. No, instead, he would have a barbecue.

He was hungry.

So he killed the cow, but rather mundanely (with cholesterol). Then he fired up the ol' grill and began making cheeseburgers.

With one cow's worth of meat for only one man, Herbert ate very well. He was so content afterward he vowed to join Habitat for Humanity and forevermore work for social justice and peace on Earth.

Unfortunately for Herbert, he liked his burgers rare.

The pious old farmer's pious old cow was infested with pious old worms. They didn't care about rooster-slaughter, or hen-slaughter, or 87 children-farmer-and-wife-slaughter, but they simply couldn't abide with Herbert's sinful consumption of cheese with beef.

The worms thus devoured Herbert from the inside out. They gnawed on his liver. They bored holes through his flesh. They consumed all his organs until his torso was a festering nest of vermin.

Then they spat him up, for he tasted terrible.

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