This always begins, but never ends. Elf kind, has a dystopia of wit, that makes them grow either older or younger, according to the quality of the quip.
Tulery – Vincent Saint Quentin
The real reason Tule were at the palace, were to garner the Queen’s affection, as elf kind had connections there, with regards to the aristocracy, with money in their pockets. The biscuits were covered with pink, and the room were orange. She talked none the less about things that were dainty and quaint, but things ruffled Tule’s feathers, as he had just drunk from the dog’s bowl.
Edgar were up first, as he turned around to look back to Layton, who ushered him on. To be on the spot about this Tulery, were nonchalant, to say at the least - but to break a swan’s neck, one had to be on time, and Edgar dropped dead, on the spot. The cabinet rustled in horror.
But, as it were, Layton were about the commune that day. He were rubbing the old beat up buggy that had been repaired, with shammy and wax. Tule watched him, like a hawk, and wondered what that lock grip meant, as neither were moving a didactic inch from teen to tween.
The wit had it, and Layton were blasting the keys to the console attached to the TV. The bean bag, supported the three, but the vice grip of Tule’s father kept at him, and he wondered why his anger had become the rule. Layton stopped and stared aggressively sometimes. Edgar were off on some tangent, as he counted his fingers.
Tule were at the fridge, as he were five. In a didactic quip, he muttered out loud, that he were as stupid as could be, and grew to the adjusted age of the freezer, then he licked the icy pole and merely shrunk. Later, he were the one to witness Layton and his funniest remark turn him into a fox, that skipped away, into the totem jungle.