Читать книгу Hobgoblin and the Seven Stinkers of Rancidia - Kyle Sullivan - Страница 11

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For many years, Fiddlefart’s cruelty left everyone feeling gasless and miserable. They all longed for the days when they lived free and together as a musky medley of diverse and disgusting smells.

So, Rancidians began to whisper. They exchanged secret plans and rebellious words. They met quietly in the shadows where the king could not see or hear—or smell. In their darkest moment, Rancidians could sniff a faint scent of hope.

But whispers weren’t enough. They needed a hero, or perhaps a handful of heroes, to help the hopeful scent blossom into a full-on stench of freedom.

And heroes do have a way of emerging in even the stinkiest situations. In fact, at this very moment, one such hero is dozing in the muck on a bean farm in the Unincorporated Mucklands.

He maybe doesn’t look like a hero, and he definitely doesn’t know he’s a hero. But to stinky creatures every-where, he smells exactly as a hero should: dreadful.

While some heroes wear capes or glittery spandex, and others carry magic wands or sport bulging muscles, some heroes don’t fit into pre-existing molds. Some heroes emerge unexpectedly to solve unexpected problems.