CRASH!

Through the glass you pounce, and fall into the warm  LIVING ROOM, catching the elder ZIGZAG off guard.
You stand to your feet, and bellow the demands,
“HERE BE GOSSMOGLE, WIELDER OF THIS LAND, OVERLORD OF ALL, AND (most importantly) BEARER OF HUNGER- I STAND HERE, WITH VISIONS OF CUBIC BREAB. GIVE ME THAT WHICH
WILL APPEAR SOON, OR I WILL HORF YOU FACE IN SUBSTITUTION.”

The elder ZigZag stood there, motionless by your speech. Why. But before you could ask,
you just knew a (secret) THIRD CHOICE had been suggested by the ZigZag.

GOSSMOGLE shall let the ZigZag live, and in return, gain the sustenance
of ONE (1) CUBIC BREABSLICE. You agree that this is the most excellent choice,
and as soon as the ziggyzagling returned to the house, you three feasted together, harmoniously.

YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY FED YOUR BELLY!

You stay for a card game or two, but eventually get too butt-hurt and have
to leave. You just have to, you insist, denying that your sore-loss has
any relations to this decision. Off into the ABYSMAL LANDS with you then,
as you stray off once again,,.......... .



 FEAST, My Mighty Friend

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