Jake was looking forward to the semi-annual church deer hunt a week from Saturday. He was planning to take his 12-year-old son Bo and teach him how to stalk and kill a deer as a right of passage to becoming a man. He wanted to show him how to look into the deer's eyes and see the fear right before the kill. This was an experience he had been waiting to share with his son, like his father before him had shared this same experience with Jake.
In the bowels of the castle dark, worked a master of iron and steel, who forged armour and weapons, toiling day and night, providing the finest weapons in the world for the knights who defended the kingdom. He worked alone, often to the point of exhaustion, to meet the number set by the king. It was a hard job, but he had been doing it for forty years. He was like a father to the knights, who would often talk with him, as they brought their swords and shields for repair.
There was a tavern, located somewhere in the State Of Apathy, where knights and damsels, wizards and monks, could all eat and drink together and escape the evil outside, which was depressing and bewildering, to say the least. No one had the desire to do anything about anything in The State Of Apathy, except escape the reality that they lived day after day and the only place to do that was the tavern.
There was a fallen idol named Imus, who was a person like you and me, who said a bad word and all the sainted people throughout the sainted land, came out to judge this person, who fell from grace or some place that looked like grace. The first group of sainted folks were called the gossipers. These sainted people tore off his shirt and beat him unmercifully as punishment for the bad word he had said. It was a good thing these folks were sainted...
The flies in Marvin's house were unbearable. Living near a landfill had its drawbacks, which included rats, roaches, flies and other species of uninvited guests, who would drop over without an invitation. He called an exterminator once, who came over to his house and laughed. The upside was his house came cheap, only two thousand dollars at the city's land auction. He only had to pay the delinquent taxes. But the flies were a major problem.
Industrialist C. J. Bastee was a successful businessman, whose motto was to work hard and be hard, proved it everyday by cutting cost to the bone no matter what the cost to workers or their safety. Matter of fact, his worker's fear made him feel more important. He would use every opportunity to intimidate them or threaten their job security, by given them some impossible task to do and fire them, if they did not complete it.