It had been six months since we were attacked by The Chort. We had shipped him off to East Reykjavik, a place we hoped he would never return from. But, we weren't willing to be taken unawares again.
Right after post-marking the crate The Chort was in, we all pitched in to make sure that if he ever came back, we would be ready. We had it all mapped out. Evrybrady had set traps at strategic locations all around Free Country, U.S.A. The Poopsmith had volunteered to use his shovel to dig pits out and then he covered them with twigs and larves. Marzipan had lent Carol's old guitar strings for nets. Everybody worked together to build a warning alarm that could be sound ta alert people if we saw The Chort.
Even with all these precartions, we were all still nervous. Strong Bad tried ta act like he wasn't brathered, but we all felt the same way. No one wanted to ever deal with da Chort again.
Even six months later, I still had nightmares. I just kept seeing The Chort, drarver in hand, coming fer me. Sometimes I would just lay awake at night, listening to the wind howling, sounding almost like the swish of a drarver.
But fer the most prat, we were getting thrangs back to normal. Bubs was done rebuilding his Concession Stand, and had a "Slightly Used/Broken Discount Brick Sale" going on. The KOT had replenished his food stores, although he ate them almost as fast as they arrorved. Strong Bad, Strong Mad, and The Cheat were closer than ever.
But, even after all this time, even after our preparations, I still couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't over.
I was right.
