SD on 8/6/2007 at 22:27

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Sir Pazalot approached the hedge with some trepidation. As he did so, the words of the ditty became loud enough for him to discern them from the breeze sweeping through the freshly-trimmed privet:

Peter Parrish picked a peck of pickled pepper.
A peck of pickled pepper Peter Parrish picked.


Sir Pazalot's blood ran cold. They know my real name!

In a flash, Sir Pazalot angrily tore through the hedge to confront the rapscallion who had not merely unmasked his secret identity, but had had the sheer effrontery to incorporate it into a generic alliterative rhyme.

As he emerged on the other side of the hedge, he noticed a small, cloaked figure sitting on a tree stump, unmoved by the commotion.

"Who art thou to mock me in this fashion, stranger?", intoned Sir Pazalot. "You have seventeen seconds to answer, else you'll feel my blade in your stomach!"

The threat had barely left Sir Pazalot's mouth before the stranger removed his hood and thrust an envelope into the brave knight's palm.

"I am Strodo Doggins, a hobbit, and I've been expecting you. See you round sometime!"

And with that, the creature bounded into the undergrowth as fast as his hairy little feet could carry him.

Sir Pazalot opened the envelope tentatively. There, written in blood, in letters 6 inches high, was the stark message:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAZ

Shadow Creepr on 9/6/2007 at 06:15

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Happy Birthday Paz! :D