//------------------------------// // Did ya know... // Story: Krass' 255 collection // by Krass McWriter //------------------------------// “So you used to be human mister...” Fallen Sitar trailed, waiting for the newfoal to offer his name. “Burning Britches, and yes, I used to be.” He awnsered, nodding. “Burning Britches huh? Thats an odd name.” Sitar noted. “Oh, it’s a reference to an old earth saying.” Britches beamed. “So what’s Earth like?” Sitar asked. Burning Britches looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, but unfortunately for him, Fallen Sitar was one gullible mother fucker and mistook it for geuine happiness to tell him. “Well, where to start? Have you ever seen a human before?” “No, can’t say I have.” Britches smile grew ever more wicked, “Well, we’re about seven feet tall on average and are hairy every except our faces. We give birth by eating our way outside of our mothers, six or eight of us at a time. Our father then tosses us all off the highest cliff he could find and raises only the ones who survive and climb back up.” “No way!” Sitar boggled. “Oh yes, and there’s more. Occasionally, one group gets angry at another group and they send their youngest to die at each other hands until people detached from the conflict decide they’ve had enough. Its like if I told you to run in circles until I was tired, but with dying. We also try to make as little physical contact as possible with each other and invented devices to keep each other at bay. Also, we kill stuff for fun.” Britches continued, but Sitar had ran away screaming long ago. “Damn I’m good.”