by MW Cook
As anyone with a disproportionately large head knows, someone who laughs at your large melon is a real pain in the neck (pun intended). So this massive head with a tiny stalk of a body was quickly filled with rage. He tried to rush up to Shan and smack him in the face, but his tiny arms couldn’t reach him. He tried kicking, but it had the same effect. Shan watched all this and laughed all the louder. Finally the Big Giant Head (for that was his name) got an idea that actually could cause some damage. He pulled about a pound of phlegm from the back of his throat and spat on Shan.
Shan was struck and stuck to the ground. The mucusy goo acted as an adhesive and itched horribly. It was pretty gross.
“Oh big giant head man!” He called out. “Your forgiveness I implore! It wasn’t my fault about the bleach!”
“I saw you open the bottle and pour it out!” Said the angry head. “Who’s fault could it have been if not yours?”
“It was the authors, I swear it. I never wanted to do that. I think that the uncreative fool couldn’t think of anything that actually fit with my character so he didn’t bother thinking about it at all and made me dump the bleach and left the mess to the next author. I swear I didn’t mean to.”
“Who are these authors you speak of?” Asked the head.
“Men, three men who delight in tormenting me. I know not where they come from nor why they pull my strings, but they are the source of all my ailments and struggles in life. Cursed authors!” Shan spat.
“My, my, my.” Said the head. “This is a sad story of yours. These author-folks certainly sound like villains. We should put a stop to their madness before you pour more bleach on someone.”
“So take my hand, dear head, and travel with me. Together we will find the three authors and kick their combined asses.”