Once upon a time in a land far far away, the sweet and innocent Incan people were minding their own business, attempting to grow a civilization out of the rough and rugged hills of a mountainous area.
The landscape, inhospitable to foreigners, was nevertheless responded well to the husbandry and farming of the Incan people, may their ancestors always be remembered.
On a summer day, the French, their neighbor to the West, sent a small army toward the Incan's newest city. Nestled between two mountains and with a commanding view of the valley to the West, the French were forceful in their demand that the Incan give up their shining jewel of a city.
The Incan leadership responded with a resounding NO!
The next year the French invaded with six mixed armies; axe wielding thugs and archers with short bows. The armies were led by a great general from a good family. The Western Valley blossomed with the blue of pansies, and troops blocked each other from touching the Incan city snug between it's mountains.
The slaughter was horrible. Several work crews were captured and much pillaging was done by the invaders. One brave band of Incan warriors sacrificed their lives to the French advance. Blood soaked the soil.
The Inca people huddled inside the seemingly doomed city could hear the laughing and jeering from the French invaders. Their calls to, "sortir et meurent les petits", was largely ignored due to the Inca people NOT SPEAKING FREAKING FRENCH, but the tone of voice was clear - it was derisive, it was taunting.
That is when the Inca citizens found stones as big as mountains, grabbed their slings and ran toward the battle...ran toward the blood... ran toward the hated French: the invaders of a peaceful civilization.
With stones as big as mountains, they armed themselves with rocks for their slings and ran toward destiny. Stones as big as fists were hurled with deadly effect against the French troops, both archers and axe wielding buffoons.
WHIRL WHIRL WHIRL WHIRL -- POP -- A stone would embed itself into the skull of a doomed Frenchman. Those who bypassed the Incan mountain city and entered the city proper were the first to be destroyed. Out of four armies only two soldiers escaped.
The Incan civilians, armed with ROCKS!!... armed with fracking ROCKS!!! Destroyed the French army and drove the survivors back to huddle afraid in their cities.
Inca rage was unleashed that day. Their pain, their betrayal, was returned to the French in triplicate. The French fields burned... their mines were caved in... their armies destroyed.
Their rage and damage was so great, the French general Napoleon personally sued for peace and gave up a city to secure it. He knew that day that the Incan people were not to be trifled with.
After the battles and after the peace treaty was signed, an Incan citizen was overheard commenting to his fellow citizen, "I hope he has Aflac... and major medical."
The End.
The landscape, inhospitable to foreigners, was nevertheless responded well to the husbandry and farming of the Incan people, may their ancestors always be remembered.
On a summer day, the French, their neighbor to the West, sent a small army toward the Incan's newest city. Nestled between two mountains and with a commanding view of the valley to the West, the French were forceful in their demand that the Incan give up their shining jewel of a city.
The Incan leadership responded with a resounding NO!
The next year the French invaded with six mixed armies; axe wielding thugs and archers with short bows. The armies were led by a great general from a good family. The Western Valley blossomed with the blue of pansies, and troops blocked each other from touching the Incan city snug between it's mountains.
The slaughter was horrible. Several work crews were captured and much pillaging was done by the invaders. One brave band of Incan warriors sacrificed their lives to the French advance. Blood soaked the soil.
The Inca people huddled inside the seemingly doomed city could hear the laughing and jeering from the French invaders. Their calls to, "sortir et meurent les petits", was largely ignored due to the Inca people NOT SPEAKING FREAKING FRENCH, but the tone of voice was clear - it was derisive, it was taunting.
That is when the Inca citizens found stones as big as mountains, grabbed their slings and ran toward the battle...ran toward the blood... ran toward the hated French: the invaders of a peaceful civilization.
With stones as big as mountains, they armed themselves with rocks for their slings and ran toward destiny. Stones as big as fists were hurled with deadly effect against the French troops, both archers and axe wielding buffoons.
WHIRL WHIRL WHIRL WHIRL -- POP -- A stone would embed itself into the skull of a doomed Frenchman. Those who bypassed the Incan mountain city and entered the city proper were the first to be destroyed. Out of four armies only two soldiers escaped.
The Incan civilians, armed with ROCKS!!... armed with fracking ROCKS!!! Destroyed the French army and drove the survivors back to huddle afraid in their cities.
Inca rage was unleashed that day. Their pain, their betrayal, was returned to the French in triplicate. The French fields burned... their mines were caved in... their armies destroyed.
Their rage and damage was so great, the French general Napoleon personally sued for peace and gave up a city to secure it. He knew that day that the Incan people were not to be trifled with.
After the battles and after the peace treaty was signed, an Incan citizen was overheard commenting to his fellow citizen, "I hope he has Aflac... and major medical."
The End.
