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02/11/12(Sat)23:25 No.34208612>day off from work
>cleaning garage, wife kept nagging you about it
>as you move some boxes, you unearth an old-weathered fence picket
>you start to remember
>...
>...
>...
>Seventh grade
>You are sitting at lunch with your friend, Daring-Do
>or, to you, just Do.
>she tells you about how her grandfather used to travel all over the world
>went on safari twice
>shot a lion with some kind of massive rifle
>you nod along, barely interested
>she tells you to hang on for a second
>she pulls a pith helmet out of her backpack from under the table
>its a bit large for her, but looks right
>she tells you she has a plan to break it in
>a friend of hers told her about his older brother
>back when his older brother was your age, before he left for medical school, there used to be wars
>big wars, between large armies of kids
>they fought with huge woopin' sticks, bows, arrows, and a few bottle rocket launchers
>the, he mentioned the Sword
>expertly crafted from a fence picket, it was perfectly balanced and had a well-made pommel and hilt
>nobody knows who made it or where it came from
>even still, it showed up at every major battle, in the hands of the best fighters whatever army held it could offer
>after the wars ended, the two best fighters of the campaigns took the sword deep, deep into the forest, farther than anyone had gone before
>in the middle of a clearing completely filled with poison ivy, they sunk the wooden blade into the dirt, where noone would ever find it, as a shrine and memorial to those who fought
>they told noone where they hid it
>however
>there exists a sketchy map, roughly outlining the journey to the clearing
>Daring pulls a small, crumpled, browned piece of paper out from inside her helmet
>...
>it's the map.
>she smiles brightly and tells you that you're going with her.
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