IGX

Hrothgar: Let's build a big old dining hall and call it Herot.

(They do. Then Grendel, an ugly guy, takes over Herot and eats people. Beowulf rips his arm off.)

All: You rule, Beowulf.

(Some people make SPEECHES and tell IRRELEVANT STORIES. Beowulf kills some more STUFF.)

Beowulf: Wiglaf, I'm dying. See that my funeral pyre fits my greatness.

Wiglaf: Ok.



THE END

A screaming thing comes across the sky. It's a V-2 rocket carrying twelve thousand pounds of symbolism, and it's coming down on your poor, deluded, postmodern head.
THE END