One Time In The Misty Woods

I hate trees. They just stand there, all arrogant and like it was their prerogative to reserve that one single spot and just settle there for all the days to come. What gave them the right to erect themselves in front of me, forcing me to constantly dodge their woody existence. The nerve. And who gave people permission for all these modern weapons? I mean... tasers and guns and such? Horrible. Absolutely horrible. I had nothing against a good stake or a couple of arrows way back when, but these new inventions just hurt. Like a motherf****r. And then this immortality nonsense. What good does it do to be immortal when you look like a cross between an orc and an asparagus. Succumbing to my charms my ass. It's hard work to achieve anything in this life, let me tell you, hard work. So you basically just slave away for eternity. Overrated. The food, don't let me get started... You would think there's some variety to the food. Different continents, different eating habits, a different maturity of the prey. No. It all tastes the same. And that's what you are going to eat for eternity, the same thing day in day out. That is if you manage to find prey at all. Tasers and pepper sprays are the devil's invention! Sometimes I get all weak and useless before I get hold of the next meal, and that eats away your dignity somewhat. If only there was home delivery for this stuff. Luckily though, I managed to find one juicy specimen, but he escaped my anemic hands before I could sink my teeth into him. Now it's just a matter of wearing him out in these woods. I hate all the extra exercise and effort you have to put into one single meal. The bluebells stare at me, in a similar fashion a brick wall never does, as I plod through the long, misty forest. This battle I am going to win. Hopefully before sunrise.