Friday, April 14, 2006

dragons and witches

Lady was a strong bike and had taken her owner on many strong and fast rides since that fatefull day when they were hit by a car. R2 was starting to bond to her and had taken excellent care of her. Together this strong duo had logged over 400 miles in there first three weeks together, however there was no preparing her for what would befall her on that fatefull morning of April 2006 in Bologna Italy.

While warming up one morning Robyn had decided to guide lady onto a path specifically designed to handle birds of ladies size. they called it the bike path. she was cruising down the path that had only a few morning walkers here and there. the speed was starting to really pick up maybe 25 or 30 miles an hour (the fasted species of bird in europe is the Lady Carrera hawk). when out of nowhere an old witch of around 100 or 150 years of age let her huge flame throwing dragon off its leash! As most dragons do when freed it ran rite in front of Lady and began to breath fire!!!

Lady was not scared and didnt hesitate to strike him. In fact she flew straight into her at full speed !!! Well what you have to understand is that Lady is but a bird and is no match for Dragons when they have people sitting on them. So in an effort to best the dragon, the rider (Robyn) was thrown off her. Once again a huge accident was the result of Lady trying to be a hero. the dragon ran off crying and whimpering with the old witch and R2 lay on the empty lonely path in pain. She summoned her wizard Dan and he helped to make the pain go away.
Till next time
D and R2

4 comments:

J B & N Rawlins said...

I hate old witches... especially ones with Dragons - Man we know what that must be like - poor Lady

The Haslam Clan said...

you need to write a book...nice metaphors! Has lady Robyn broken any bones yet?

J B & N Rawlins said...

Wizard and R2,
This is Lord Newby. I too have met the fate of a dragon. At the tender age of 11 while cycling with other young knights, a beast appeared from the Shawnee Forest. (A little patch of trees near my castle growing up.) The beast attacked my steed and I flew over my Huffy's ears and landed on my face. For a bloody fortnight I was left with a gruelish scrape above my upper lip that resembled a Hitler mustache. Your story envoked the same pains felt during that horrible Spring of 1293.

Ramblin Round the World said...

well done young newbic squire you have proven your courage. now you must find a new steed to carry you over hill and texan prairie and the guadalupe river of death. god speed