A slig, an outlaw and an intern were wandering through the desert for no adequately explored reason. They were starving, and thanked the Odd when they came upon an implausibly isolated compound.
"I'll go in first," said the slig. He encountered a Vykker. "Pleeze! I'm starving, I need food and brew!"
The Vyker considered it for a moment, then produced a hideously altered, bald fuzzle.
"Only if you pick the scabs off my fuzzle's face."
"Eww! That's disgusting, I'm not hungry enough for that!" The slig stormed out, disgusted.
The outlaw watched the slig with interest, and decided to try his own luck inside.
"Yoo, food, now," he demanded.
"Only if you pick the scabs off my fuzzle's face."
"What? Urgh, no way!" And the outlaw left to find his slig friend.
The intern plodded into the compound.
"Food?" Asked the Vykker. "Only if you pick the scabs off my fuzzle's face."
"Mmmmm-mmm!" Replied the intern. So using his slender, six fingered hands he peeled the scabs from the fuzzle, ignoring its cries of discomfort. He put them into a brown paper bag and threw them out the window. He then enjoyed the sight of paramite pies, scrab cakes and brew, but found that he could not eat them due to his stitched mouth.
A few hours later he emerged, having solved the puzzle of ingestion. He met his friends wearing big grins.
"Hey, we just found some delicious chips outside the compound. They were wrapped in a brown paper bag..."
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and Esus ''dumbass'' was not needed . That is how arguements start...wanker..
