The Siege of Pugglemunt Pt 11 (frog)

Chapter Seven: In Which I Once Again Do Not Choose My Words Carefully Enough

You understand, of course, that in an ideal world not one Pugglemuntian life would have ended in the siege. Would that I could protect every single one of my country folk! Would that I might spread my arms around them like great protective wings, sitting atop them like a mother goose on a golden egg and hissing at passersby. But it’s not an ideal world, as demonstrated by the fact that Mr Wiggle was devoured by poltergeists and I got jettisoned out of a backed-up shit-tube. Still, I told myself that I would do my damnedest to minimise the bloodshed. Precisely how though, I hadn’t quite figured out yet.

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