Fictional and his perfect Stallion
Fictional David Mitchell from the cunnilingus sketch woke up after a particularily intense working day at his latest sketch. Luckely his favourite breakfast was on the table.
"What joy! David told himself" Fictional David told himself. He liked to narrate himself. This stemming back from his days as a field commander. He oftenly bragged about his military days to his friend Fictional Robert who listened with intense loyalty. Fictional Robert liked nothing better than to listen endlessly to Fictional Davids explorations of the gulf of Mexico aswell as his time a Khmer Guerilla. "What joy!" Fictional Robert always seemed to think. Especially when Fictional David started lamenting about his war wounds. Fictional Robert considered it joyous because all of Fictional Davids scars were those of Hollywood and they would all look excellent on TV Fictional Robert thought.
Fictional David stopped narrating himself however and let out a cave-man roar and bursted his shirt with shere testosterone swallowing all the sandwiches whole. My stomach will need the exercise Fictional David thought, as he imagined punching people with his belly at his next run in with the law.
The only thing that would make this morning better is if I could rule the world. Fictional Mitchell proclaimed. And so it happened because he is also GOD.
Fictional Mitchell viewed his creation and thought it would be fun to lesser himself to a humans level to see if he could go on some kind of heroes journey and learn things. Of course being omniscient he knew that he couldn't possibly learn anything more or do anything he hadn't allready done or imagined himself doing. So he simply erased all of his memories and reset the earth to a time where heroes could be real heroes and where the use of witty panel-show skills were the main source of battling both in outstanding prime-time duels aswell as more improvised mass-screamings.
Fictional Mitchells last act as GOD was to give stalwart Fictional Robert a chance for glory aswell and transformed him into Robert – The Legendary Stallion. For good measure he gave him a streetwise brooklyn accent of Hungarian. Because Fictional Mitchell is wise and we should not question him.
Fictional David awoke in a completely deserted desert. Fictional David was very warm so he decided that a nap would be nice. But he couldn't fall asleep because the sun was far too hot! Fortunately there was this magnificent stallion before him.
"miért bámul rám, mint az öreg barátom?" said the horse.
"Oh joy, I can finally get some sleep!" Fictional David searched high and low in the area. To his astonishment he found a cactus and sand. He quickly used it to cut up the horse and soothingly fell asleep in its cozy guts.
His sleep couldn't go on for long however because the smooth carcass of the stallion was moved. He heard drums. Drums in the deep, and they weren't the horses digestive system. How curious!
Fictional David decided to look out from the horse and saw that many muscular humans were carrying him away.
"Oh you muscular warriors of the desert! Pray tell, whereforth are you carrying me so gently?"
"Silence horse we don't understand Hungarian"
"Your logic is sound! I will retreat to my home inside the wagon of flesh!"
"Have a good one eh?" The warriors responded in unison.
He fell asleep yet again.
This time it wasn't drums that awoke him. But trumpets. "Hear ye! Listen to the voice of our democratic Doge Boltie!"
"Hey people! We know justice is right. And I'm just learning how to do this. But we all like some bloodshed. So this Horse can totally be my champion if it survives this onslaught. I wouldn't bet on it though. My rascal badgers have the advantage of being alive."
Fictional Mitchell stuck out his head again and found himself in an arena He deduced cunningly that there were people from all over the world watching him from the places in the arena where one could rest ones buttom in safety from the badgers. Perhaps enjoying the comforts of some peanuts if they were discovered there. Otherwise wheat might suffice. Fictional Mitchell made a mental note of this as he found himself stuck in the horse. One of the badgers had allready come close enough to gnaw att the magnificent stallions magnificent hooves.
"I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands!" - Fictional Mitchell roared.
Through cheer willpower and knowledge of equine anatomy he managed to take control.
"You think you know how to walk you bastards? How about this!"
The horse galloped with Fictional Davids head sticking out of its back and ran over several of the badgers.
The badgers beings special reassembled into super special badgers. Now Fictional David was done for. Or could his excellent knowledge of fauna and ancient pottery save him?
Find out next time in the great adventures of "Fictional David Mitchell from the cunnilingus sketch – One Man For All and All against the MAN"