Erratic Myth Number Something:
Once, in a fresh place, a group of creatures gathered themselves together for the first time, and after getting settled down, they wondered what they then should do. No one knew. Thus, was civilization born.
There’s not much
demand, or regard,
for a hero
until he is dead.
One particular planet put its transcendental, revolutionist dreams into myths based on stories of military conflict, while a sister world’s similar tales were centered on concepts of love and compassion. To reconcile these variances, they decided to stage an Olympic styled competition – sort of a “Paradigmatic Play-Off,” and at first all went surprisingly well as good will and sportsmanship seemed the order of the day, until one side sent the other cream filled doughnuts stuffed with irrational proverbs and dynamite.
One of the planet elders one day mentioned to the underage underlings in his charge that almost everyone has some talent to be ugly, and that it most tends to be exercised when one gets in a serious mortal mode.
In a certain neural, judicial circuit, alert attorneys begin to expect a most generous judgment when the other side must resort for character witnesses to the likes of Attila.