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} There is an old Welsh legend about a small boy named
} Cwmgbrghwymgd and his village of Lllrgymnrnwmlgh...
}
} As the story goes, young Cwmgbrghwymgd (known to his friends as
} Cwmg, meaning "Boy of Unpronounceable Name") was walking through the
} forest one day, when he happened upon a small, green-glass bottle.
} Well, it was an anvil, really. And he was in a coal mine. It is a
} Welsh legend, after all. His father had told him that it was the
} forest, and that was good enough for Cwmg.
}
} In any event, young Cwmg examined the bottle, and found it to be
} very much like an anvil. (Young Cwmg was a bit slow on the uptake, but
} again, it is a Welsh legend.) Inscribed on the bottle was the phrase,
} "How hot is it?" with a series of numbers below it: 160, 215, 345, 612,
} and the last was illegible. "Hm..." Cwmg said thoughtfully, as he was
} wont to do. "What on earth could this mean?" So he looked all around,
} throughout the entire forest, and found nothing amongst the trees but
} coal and rock. Suddenly, on the third day of searching (which is not
} exactly "suddenly" at all, but the idea is the important thing), he
} found a small trail he had never seen in the forest before, and
} strangely enough, it looked very much like a ventilation shaft. This
} would have struck Cwmg as being odd had he stopped to think about it,
} but remember, this is a Welsh legend.
}
} Carved into the living trees of coal were the words, "Dwarves,
} higher than this, in the magical chamber." You can only imagine young
} Cwmg's excitement as he clutched the precious bottle to his breast and
} raced up the tree-lined path! He fell a number of times, but then, you
} try carrying an anvil up a ventilation shaft.
}
} Alas, the path was blocked off. Cwmg spent many a day after this
} clearing dead wood (coal) from the thick forest undergrowth (coal) with
} his handy machete (pickaxe). As he cleared a path, he found himself
} imagining what the dwarves would be like: he invented stories about
} their heroes, legends of their origin, entire sagas about their
} wondrous forestry (mining) skills, until finally one day, he cleared
} the remaining azalea bush (coal) from the path and looked down upon the
} dwarves.
}
} Unfortunately, they did not measure up to his imagined lore at
} all. On the contrary they were far too stupid to even understand the
} concept of imagination whatsoever. The markings on the anvil had
} actually been temperature readings the dwarves took as they shoved the
} anvil into a fire barehanded for no discernable purpose other than that
} their memories were incredibly short-lived and they couldn't figure out
} why everyone was such a bad flautist. When Cwmg tried to tell them of
} his stories about them, they threatened to beat him up, but then they
} forgot who he was and asked him to hand them another anvil.
}
} In fact, the dwarves were REMARKABLY SIMILAR TO YOU!!! THEY SAID
} STUPID THINGS AND ASKED STUPID QUESTIONS AND SHOWED ABSOLUTELY NO
} IMAGINATION OF THEIR OWN AT ALL WHILE NOT BEING ABLE TO APPRECIATE
} WHAT YOUNG CWMG HAD DEVELOPED USING ONLY HIS CREATIVITY AND A LITTLE
} BIT OF SPARE TIME!!! THIS IS PROBABLY THE STUPIDEST QUESTION I HAVE
} EVER SEEN IN ALL MY ETERNITY AS ORACLE, AS IT IS TOTALLY POINTLESS,
} UNFUNNY, AND LEAVES THE ORACLE NO LEEWAY WITHIN WHICH TO WORK!!!
}
} You owe the Oracle never asking a question again.
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