PROLOGUE:

        In the Days of Making, when Mother Earth was young, and the Hesitant Moon had only begun it's endless voyage around her, when the great seas parted to let the fruitful land come in between, and when the ancient beasts were unleashed upon the surface of the Earth, a sole figure crawled out of the belly of our Mother Earth.

        It called itself "man". Alongside it was another figure, looking much the same, but with important differences. This one called herself "woman". And so they were joined, on this Earth, among the trees and the grass, among the rocks and the seas, among the grand sky and the land beneath it, joined to roam the surface of our Mother Earth among beasts of all varieties.

        Soon the grand Maker, Manitu, explained to these creatures the Great Secret of Procreation, and they began to multiply, and they created many offsprings, which gathered themselves as a Tribe, to take on the difficulties of their new found lives. Thus began the Grand Story, which we all know well by now, the Story that gave birth to all the little tales that we know, and to the tale which shall follow. For the Men in this tale of heroic deeds and thoughtful contemplation, are the Sons of the Great God we all came to know and respect as Rust, He Who Destroys The Weapons of Careless Warriors. And so the tale begins...

THE TALE:

        The Warriors of the Tribe sit within the Wigwam of Conversation. They are all deeply lost in thought, all but the youngest of them, Fuzzy Carrot, a brave and mighty warrior indeed, who rode from the distant Northern Planes only to join the Tribe in their Quests. He is dissatisfied with arrangements that were made for the second Gathering of Migthy Warriors that was to be held at a bad time for him. His skwo was to give birth at that time, so he had to be out in the woods, hunting for food and skins to keep her well and fit.

        Fuzzy Carrot grunted once, looked up at all the others in the wigwam, then looked at the exit, where the skin covering it flapped as it was struck by the strong wind outside. Finaly, after taking a deep breath, he announced, his voice firm and strong:

        "Fuzzy Carrot not like the arrangement made for the second Gathering of Mighty Warriors. He has things to do, and can not compete with the Warriors of this and other tribes, and so he asketh the Warriors to consider moving the Gathering to some other day, when Fuzzy Carrot and all those who are busy on that day, and there are plenty of them, be able to attend Gathering. Howg."

        Confused Sponge agreed, and nodding his head wisely, added, his voice firm and strong:

        "Fuzzy Carrot speak the words of Wise Men, but They Who Organise say it be good to do it then. They Who Organise also be They Who Be Asked About Stuff, so Fuzzy Carrot and Confused Sponge shut up and do as told. Howg."

        The Grand Chief was quick to answer, and insightful, as always, and naturaly, he cared about the needs and feelings of all his fellow tribesmen. He nodded wisely, shook the dust from his shoulders, burped twice, loudly, then stood up and announced, his voice firm and strong:

        "Well... all of you go to Hell... Confused Sponge, He Who Changes Names Too Often, Fuzzy Carrot, Umpah Pah, He Who Has Short Name, Son of Comanche, Fluffy Hairdo, Send Fast... you all just sitting around and speaking bullshit saying things be not good... you could, just for change, sometimes say things is good, and even do something, from times to times. Yes. Exactly... Do. Because in tribe like this, no Warrior gives out orders and tasks in way you would like, just because you not like to think and make things up! Warriors are all jumping around me and asking why I be nervous, so there, now you have it, and you can all think about it little bit for yourselves. Howg."

        Fuzzy Carrot watched the Grand Chief sit down nobly and dignifiedly, with merely a small "bump" when he landed on his Great Warrior Bottom. He felt the pain of the Grand Chief, and could do nothing else but comfort him. So he announced, his voice firm and strong:

        "Woah, the Grand Chief truly speaketh. The Tribe be upset, and take Grand Chief for drink, Grand Chief relaxes."

        Confused Sponge, almost as quick on words as on his tomahawk in battle, was the first to speak, and to agree with Fuzzy Carrot. He announced, his voice firm and strong:

        "Yes, yes, Confused Sponge think so also, He Who Talks Much And Says Nothing becomes very frustrated. Confused Sponge think Grand Chief need new skwo, or some other excitement, Tribe then again to live in unity and coolness... Howg."

        Next to reply was Umpah Pah. He still felt a bit of anger to the Chief since he almost got kicked out of the Tribe, because of his lack of bravery in battle, but seeing the troubled, wrinkled face of the Grand Chief, he could feel the pain of the Grand Chief, and could also do nothing but comfort him. So he announced, his voice firm and strong:

        "And maybe Grand Chief missing great amount of Water of Fire... if Grand Chief want this, when we take his wigwam we bring great amount... He not worry... Some Warriors even think he kicks them out of Tribe, and want to burry Tomahawk of War he pull out just like that..."

        The Son of Comanche was next to speak. He listened carefuly to what Umpah Pah said, and in his wise head, found an error in these words. He spat in the dirt beside him, cleared his throat, and announced, his voice firm and strong:

        "Son of Comanche think Grand Chief need two skwo the color of Sky when sun sets above great lakes which fondle his warrior marbles; then he be calm... The Water of Fire of Paleface Men is not strong as the Plant of The Spirits which Noble Warrior of a brotherly tribe grow in camp a day on horseback away from here."

        To conclude the round, Confused Sponge decided to speak once again. He farted strongly into the distance, looked at all the faces in the dimly lit circle of the wigwam, and announced, his voice firm and strong:

        "Uh! Confused Sponge be great warrior and great traveller. Confused Sponge travel land and see, and every place the great brother Moon reaches with His Look, and never in his Warrior Life does he meet such words that speak wisdom from themselves. Voah..."

        And so, the matter was set. Each of the Great Warriors grabbed his belongings, and went to their wigwams. And when the Great Father Sun shone upon their noble camp, they all took some Water of Fire, and lots of the Plant of The Spirits, and gathered at the wigwam of the Grand Chief.

EPILOGUE:

        After three days of testing their Warrior Power, confronting the Water of Fire from the Paleface Men and the Plant of The Spirits, as well as the constant demands of their skwo, they all came out of the wigwam with happy faces. The Tribe was like one, again, and harmony was restored. Gatherings shall come and pass, but the Tribe shall live on as One.

        Thus spake Fuzzy Carrot, the Great Teller of Tales of the Tribe of Rust, and so may be written down for all future generations of Warriors to know and to use; may all their clashes be wiped out like this one; may they always live as One; and may they never forget the Power of the Plant of The Spirits.

        Howg.

Phuzzy Logik of CoRRoSioN