Woody sat atop the smallish mound of skulls. Pensive, with fist tucked under chin, he wondered what was taking the girls so long with those darned coconut cream pies. And, why hadn't DeBock, the one third Canadian, one third Cameroonian and two fifths apricot salesman/gunrunner and Nguyen Van Schott, the half-Vietnamese, half-American barfly/C++ programmer, finished his sleeping quarters.
Perhaps he had better get to work on his next inspirational poem.
He began,
"Oh Ninhursag, Oh Ninhursag
You tempt me with herbs so sweet
Eight they are in number
Yet forbidden am I to eat them
You wicked queen and temptress!
By night, into the garden
shall I steal and claim them
for mine own!
Yes. That would do nicely. The allusions to Sumerian mythology would be sure to intrigue the rest of the survivors. Woody realized that in ancient days, bards such as himself, often inspired the people even in the most difficult times.
How selfless of you to inspire the others with your Epic poetry. You truly are a Great Man.
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