After waiting a few moments wracked with intense pain, barbjohn did the first thing that came to his poor scrambeled mind; he picked up the rusty pitchfork and began to brush his hair using short, brisk, strokes. Thus engaged, he began to relay the situation over in his head “I’m really in no place to be doing anything, not only am I an invalid, but I just fell from a 900 storey tree, and not only that but I’m an invalid (barbjohn’s reasoning tended to be rather circular at times.) So sighing to himself he began to cry (tearless crying of course since barbjohn lacked tear ducts as well.) Hearing his cries afar off a sad, little, puppy came to investigate the matter, upon seeing the poor creature moaning in the hay, the sad, little puppy went over and placed his paw on Barbjohn’s knee. He looked up and saw the little animal and queried “will you be my friend?” Well, with a knowing smile and a flick of the tail, the little puppy bit of Barbjohn’s nose and trotted off into the sunset.