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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #1788973
Faery letter to all note worthies.
              The unicorn strode into view. Many people stood in amazement.
        It was a warm summer's day. There were many, who thought this to
        be a prank. There it was in the middle of Washington, DC. A girl fed
        it some grapes and stroked its horn. "It's real!" she shouted excitedly.
        The unicorn galloped away. Washington police surrounded the horse
        and lassoed it's white mane. That evening Michelle Obama had a party
        for the unicorn. There were many luminaries present.

              Amongst them was Mike Wallace, "Let it be known I am sober
        and I am standing with a unicorn." The audience applauded.
        "This a once believed to be mythical creature; is now a factual reality.
        What needs to be done is simply to rewrite all of evolutionary theory."
        Mr. Wallace raised his glass of wine and slapped the unicorn on the butt.
        He was immediately impaled on its horn and tossed several feet into
        the audience. Security, surrounded the horse and tried to tranquilize it.
        The darts could not pierce its white hide. Several, lassos were thrown over
        the unicorns mane and the horse grew still.

            Blood dripped from its horn. "I-ah think we should evacuate the garden."
        Mrs. Obama announced over the P.A. A brilliant light appeared over them.
        "What is impossible?" a small voice said. It was Winkin, a woodland fairy
        nymph. All eyes squinted to see her. She flew over to the unicorn and stood
        on the tip of the horn. "Shall I leave this majestic beast with savages?
        What know you of nature? Do you hear her cry for peace?" Winkin shook
        her tiny finger at the spectators. "You poison the land and sea and air.
        When will you have enough?" Winkin raised her flute to her lips.
        "Just a minute! This man is dead! That majestic beast killed him!" shouted
        Michelle Bachmann: candidate for President. Winkin glared at the politician,
        "Do you curse the lion for taring the flesh of Christians? What murderous
        design is there in drowning floods and crushing earthquakes?" Winkin spoke
        and played her flute. The melody enchanted all who heard it.

            And then there was nothing, but green fields. The First Lady looked
        about for the Capital. She saw miles of swamp and trees. The air was fresh.
        "Whah? What have you done?" Mechelle Obama pleaded."I have taken
        you to the land of unicorns. Mike Wallace stood beside her; alive.
        "I-ah think we went back in time... before the building of Washington."
        Mr. Wallace ran his hands over his belly. The impalement had vanished.
        "Ah-okay, we get it. Let's all try to keep it green." the First Lady said
        waving her hands to the audience. They applauded nervously. Winkin giggled
        and vanished with the unicorn.

            The people stood around murmuring. The evening came.
        Mike suggested finding shelter in the woods. Mechelle Bachmann tried
        to form a search party. But, no one had a compass. After, several months
        they were living off the land and half naked. Mike Wallace had fashioned
        a spear to catch rabbits. Michelle Obama had become pregnant with his
        child. Then, they heard the flute and in a blink of an eye; they were back
        at the garden party.. They were ragged and half naked covered in swamp
        mud. The unicorn had not moved from the podium. A top its glistening golden
        horn stood Winkin. "What is given can be taken away!" she said proudly.
        And popped out of existence with the unicorn.

            "And you think I'm a flake?" Mrs Backmann queried Mike Wallace.
        "I need a drink." he replied.


        :0^0:
          O
       
       
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