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Destrucción de los Muertos

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In the town of Spalding, not far from Tia...

The wind was blowing. Swishing and whooshing like a wolf trying to blow down a brick house built by pigs, swooshing and swirling like a merry-go-round spinning underwater (okay a merry-go-around probably wouldn't work properly while submerged but this is a simile so screw the rules), blowing and blowing and blowing like a particularly enthusiastic gay man going to town on his boyfriend. It was, one could say... a windy day.

But little did anyone know, that this wind, in all its windy windiness, was carrying:


On 2/4/2019 at 3:27 PM, Twitterpated said:

A mutated bird infected by The Dead's plague flew off to infect some poor nearby village.


The outskirts of Spalding.

Two mustachioed gentlemen sat together on a log, gazing at the sky.

The pair were birdwatchers, you see, and it had become a favorite pastime of theirs to stroll out of town on occasion to take a gander at the local avian fauna, which they would identify and catalogue for their own entertainment. Today was no exception: their eyes were glued to their binoculars, which in turn scanned back and forth in the hopes of catching a stray pair of wings for the two men to gawk at in tandem.

"I say!" one said at last, "Jerome! Have a look at this fine specimen!"

Jerome swiveled his binoculars in the direction indicated. His eyes widened behind the glass lenses at he caught sight of a... a... goodness, what the devil was that?

"Ah... yes... a fine specimen indeed..."

"A thick-billed budgerigar, perhaps?"

Jerome laughed. "Oh, so one might think! But budgerigars only have two eyes, do they not? Whereas this fellow here has three! As such, it can only be a Triclopean Goshawk."

"Aren't goshawks bigger than that?"

"Well, yes, but... it could be a juvenile."

The other man frowned, and squinted again. "What's with those purple clouds coming off it, then?"

"Perhaps a bad case of flatulence?"

The two men chuckled merrily as the strange bird flew over them. They chuckled merrily as they wiped their brows with handkerchiefs, and turned their eyes back to the open skies. They chuckled merrily as they ignored the tiny purplish particles trailing down in the mutant bird's wake and settling around them, seeping in through their mouths and nostrils and infecting their respective bloodstreams.

They chuckled merrily, as they tore each other to shreds in the throes of bloodthirsty rage.


The mutant bird flew on, and Maleficence spooled down in its wake, dispersed onto the winds with every flap of its twisted wings. All throughout the town of Spalding, people began to twitch, their eyes going bloodshot as something vile and vicious began to seep into their veins. First came the shouts, and then came the screams...

...and then came the shriek of an old woman, who roused amidst the tumult and fumbled for the wooden staff that leaned against the wall by her bedside.

"Doggone it, not again!"

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