The Chronicles of Foxton

Randall: Deep Thoughts

Randall marched towards the doorway that the entire group had entered. Grim determination crossed his face as he thought about what was about to happen.

“Giants will come flooding into this room and I will have to hold the line; try and put up a good fight before I get squished…squished? Squashed maybe? I could go for some squash. That would be really nice for lunch. Is it lunch time? Wait…did we eat lunch already? Damn I hope I didn’t miss lunch. No, I think I would have known if I missed lunch. Besides if I die here I won’t get to eat lunch. Maybe I should have a snack, just in case the giants do kill me. OH SHIT! Giants! That is what I need to remember right now. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Remember giants. All these thoughts of lunch got sandwiched in when I should be focusing on…Yeah! A sandwich. That sounds really good. A nice roast beef sandwich. Maybe with a nice spiced ale. Not cinnamon though. I don’t really like cinnamon anymore, at least in cookies. Cookies with fire and pain and cinnamon. If I get hurt really bad I may have to see the doctor again. I hate doctors…and cinnamon. Doctors make me cry with their fire and pain and cinnamon…

The others readied themselves for the ensuing fight. Damian happened a glance around the large cave and stopped. Confusion crossed his face as he grabbed Brictius’s arm as he tried to hurry past.

“Um…” Damian started. Brictius looked at him and then in the direction that Damian was staring. Randall was rocking back and forth in the fetal position, in the middle of the cave. A barely audible chant emanated from him.

“Doctor bad. Doctor bad.”

Brictius turned back to Damian.

“Don’t ask.”



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