The Canterbury Tales

Issac Newton bread this horse-moose-chicken for Chaucer to ride to to church on Sundays. Surprisingly, no one noticed.

Written by Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury tales are a series of stories told in the fashion of a competition of storytelling amongst a gaggle of Englishmen on a pilgrimage from Southwark to Canterbury. The victor of said competition was supposed to win a meal free-of-charge at the Tabard Inn.

The stories commence with Fredrick Diggsbottom and William Willemsburg recounting the time when they were hunting in Soddlebury Forest, just south of Wakkenstown. As the tale goes, Diggsbottom and Willemsburg had just spotted a boar they had been tracking for weeks, when out of the blue, it grew a pair of butterfly wings, spotted the pair of hunters from afar, took flight, and promptly ate the unsuspecting duo. From the perspective of the other travelers listening to the story, Diggsbottom and Willemsburg turned to stone as soon as they finished their tale.

Dumbfounded, but with little else to do, the pilgrims continued their journey to Canterbury. Eager to show his mettle, Young Pippy Poopot, a boy of 11 with an acute case of Downs, stepped forward to share his tale. Pippy was prancing through a meadow when a swarm of bees enveloped him. According to Pippy, the bees burrowed into his buttocks and filled his rectum with rich maple syrup. When Young Pippy Poopot completed his recollection of this event, he combusted in an awesome explosion and became a pile of ash within seconds.

The pilgrims carried on. The final competitor, Sir Justin Bearpelt, stepped forward and boldly announced that he had a story that would top everyone else’s. As soon as he parted his lips, however, he was carried away by 41 mosquitoes flying in formation. They hideously devoured every ounce of blood in his body in thirteen seconds flat. By this point in the pilgrimage, the pilgrims were all too afraid to try and tell a story, because anyone who had attempted to do so died in some horrid fashion.

Silently, the crew drudged on for another half mile until reaching Canterbury. However, much to their dismay, Canterbury had been replaced by a pit one mile long in diameter. The Earth had swallowed Canterbury whole. The pilgrims all joined hands, stepped to the edge of the pit, and cast themselves in. They disappeared into the darkness, plunging deep into the abyss, to meet their deaths and whatever lurked below.

The end.