Flash

The Marauder

May 12, 2026

He slept next to his wife, dreaming the deepest he ever would, when suddenly his door burst open. In came a giant man covered in scraps of leather and fur, his breath a bold bouquet of butt. The man in bed with his wife jumped up, unsheathing a slick silver blade and stood ready to receive his enemy. The marauder swung his iron axe with burly arms, but it was deflected by the thick of the man’s sword. The valiant defender swiftly thrust his sleek blade through the marauder’s neck and he fell dead. The lifeless thug toppled backwards through the doorway, and fell. The man ran to the threshold and looked down, and there he saw a cliff of several hundred feet descending beneath his bare feet. The marauder fell in good epic fashion, splashing in the whitewash which licked the base of the cliffs below. The man turned back to his wife, who had awakened, and sat cowering behind the fur blanket held up to her chin. She saw that it was safe, blushed, and dropped the blanket—revealing her supple breasts. The man tossed his sword aside, it landing in a giant goldfish bowl. The large orange fish swam around the submerged sword, puffing on a tiny cigar which sat in the corner of its mouth—bulbous bubbles filled with bright blue smoke boiled and burst at the surface, and bloomed into big white clouds above the bowl. The defender stood with a loincloth barely covering his manhood, and he now realized this, and so covered himself. His wife giggled and then turned under the blanket, throwing it over her head, the covers flattened as if she had somehow sank through the mattress. He fell to his knees and looked beneath the blanket, but she was not there, he searched and searched through the layers, endless they were, until finally he stopped to realize that he was awake, flopping around in his fluffy white comforter.

2012