Jimbo Jex's eyes twitched uncontrolably.  This happened whenever he smelled vinegar.  If one happened to see him thus, it would look as if his eyes were having a blinking contest by themselves.  The odd part was, Jimbo Jex loved to smell vinegar.  When he was young, and relatively stupid, he would sneak off behind his father's outhouse with a jar of the finest vinegar he could buy and sit there and sniff to his heart's content.  The odour of the outhouse, and it was pungent as his father always had the runs, did not throw Jimbo off.  In fact, he seemed to appreciate the vinegar all the more.
     He remembered time and time again how he would stare at the ground and imagine he was a high lord sitting behind an outhouse with his nose jammed into a jar of vinegar.  Jimbo did not have much imagination.  One thing he did have, was vinegar.  He felt safe there.  Who in their right mind would snoop around an outhouse?
     His father would, and did.  After one particularly sweaty experience his father left the outhouse and heard a giggling nose.  He strode around with his black smithing hammer, for he always carried it with him.  He'd say, "never know when I'll need to shoe a horse, or mend a sword, or move a large pile of crap in the outhouse."  His father caught Jimbo right in mid-sniff.
     "What in the seven balled wonder are you doing lad?" his father yelled, sweat flicking from his brow.  Jimbo said nothing, but twitched his eyes.  "Well?!"  Jimbo twitched his eyes.  "Are you sniffing vinegar again?"  Jimbo twitched his eyes.  "How many times must I tell you to stop?"  Jimbo sniffed the vinegar and the tempo of his eye twitches increased dramatically.  "Can you even see me when you're doing that?"
     "Who's there?" Jimbo asked, his eyes blinked rapidly.  His father kicked the vinegar from his hand, grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to the well.  He brought up a pail of water and douced his son.  Jimbo twitched and spit out water.  His father repeated it again.  Jimbo coughed and seemed to come to.
     "What are you doing behind the outhouse?  Did I not forbid you from ever going near it?" His father yelled.
    "Oh, hi father," Jimbo grinned as if he just relieved himself.  "What do you want?"  His father shook his head, waved his very dirty smithing hammer at him and stalked off.  These were the fond memories Jimbo had of his father's home.  These memories seemed as if they were only yesterday, but he knew full well, they were from last week.

     So, Jimbo bent his head down to take another sniff and found his eyes did not twitch; he was out of vinegar.  Saddened, he threw the jar away and stood up.  He was still in the same little hamlet of his youth, but it no longer seemed his.  His jerk of a father had strode around town with his smithing hammer threatening everyone if they so much as gave him a droplet of vinegar.  'The outhouse smith,' was what everyone called his father.  Everyone had complied with his father's wishes, not because they feared him, not because he would refuse to shoe their horses, but because they did not want him to waggle his stained hammer at them for fear of outhouse cast off.
     Jimbo decided to visit his friend.  It was easy for him to choose which friend to visit, because he only had one.  His name was Pox-faced Peat, who lived in the village peat moss area.  Pox-faced loved his peat moss, so much so that he fashioned a peat moss 'family.'  He had Sarla, his peat wife, and Jaca, his peat daughter, and the black sheep of the family was Murphy, his peat moss son, whom he disliked with a passion.  Apparently Murphy back talked.
     "Hey-lo Jimbo," Pox-faced screamed in fury.
     "Hiya Poxy," Jimbo cooed.  "What's wrong?"
     "Murphy has done it again," Pox-faced seethed with anger.  "He went and got caught on fire again.  I told him a hunnerd times to stay away from my torches."  Pox-faced looked at Jimbo a moment, "What in Lord Klovadar's butt warts are you doing here?"  Pox-faced Peat always used that epitaph, much to the chagrin of Lord Klovadar, the local princeling.
     "Have ya got any vinegar?" Jimbo asked hope welling up inside, forcing him to dance his 'happy, I got vinegar dance'.
     "Nah, yer father was a here so stop yer dancing, idiot," Pox-faced bellowed so loud his neck cords looked to burst.
     "Oh, well.  I guess I have to go in search of work so I can buy me some.  My father won't support me any longer and so he threw me out.  Hey can I use your outhouse?"
     "Why didn't you use your da's?"
     "He said I wasn't allowed to go near it and now I afeard I'll explode."
     "Ok, go ahead, but make sure you light a torch," Poxy cursed.  "And don't let Murphy get near it."
     After Jimbo finshed, and after they put out the second fire on Murphy the two decided it was time for them to start off on an adventure.  They bragged for days about their last adventure to the creak behind the old tannery.  The dyes had stained their entire bodies becaused they decided to go for a swim.
     "Where should we go?" Poxy yelled inquisitively.

  With as much conviction as Jimbo could muster, he said "I don't care."  But he did care.  He cared very much.  He wanted to go to the new Vinegar plant next door to Poxy Peat's.  In fact, just standing downwind gave him enough of a buzz to ignore how badly he had to poo again suddenly.
  "Hmmm..." mused Poxy at ear-splitting volume.  He toned it down to a level that would only scare one county's cattle to reply, "How 'bout this here vinegar factory?"
  Jimbo got so excited he peed, pooed, and vomitted.
  

Fortunately for him, Jimbo always wore adult diapers.. unfortunately not properly and so he was covered in his own filth.  Peat shook his head in digust and shame for his lack-witted friend and got to deciding where they should go for their next grand adventure.  Regretably thinking was no more a strong suit for Peat than it was for Jimbo and after 20 minutes of trying to remember what he was trying to think of had a sudden epiphany..
"Jimbo, we should get something to eat!" Peat said.
"..Jimbo?  Where did you get to? ..Jimb--" Peat stopped in mid-sentence, jaw agape, eyes wide for he saw Jimbo, his best and only friend in the whole wide world sitting there right next to him putting the moves on Jaca his beloved daughter...

     "How dare you," Pox-faced yelled causing his eyes to bulge and turn red and every manner of vein in his forehead to quiver on the point of exploding.  "Ya hafta ask me for her hand first!"
     "Wha ya talking about?" Jimbo wept.  The moves he was putting on were about checkers.
     "Oh, never mind," Pox-faced screamed and bits of his vocal cords flew from his mouth.  "I know where we can go!  Lets go to the great knights tourney in Dark Denavari."
     "Ok," Jimbo replied and the two went sauntering off with visions of being squires or even squires to squires.

     Lord Klovadar slithered out from behind Sarla, Pox-faced's wife, and shook in fury.  He was a large man, not tall, but increadibly fat.  Some say he practiced the magick arts so that he could cast powerful spells to enable him to walk on his own.  "You will rue the day you took the name of my butt in vain!"  He laughed, not so much like a manly laugh, as like a wounded hyena with a barbaque fork stuck in it's throat.  "Men!"  Five men crawled out from around the peat bog.  "Take this peat family and hold them captive.  That should learn Pox-faced Peat a thing.  Wait until he returns... what a surprise."

And just like that Jimbo and Peat made the 73 day walk to the Great Knights Tourney & Fry Shack in Dark Denavari.  It is the equivalant to the modern day McDonalds, so they actually passed 1,023 locations on their hike to this particular franchise but Peat simply loved this location because they had something none of the other ones did: Content-Meals.. they didn't make you happy but always left you contented.
Jimbo began reciting his order to the serving-wench behind the counter "Yah I'll have.. uhhmmmmm.. the Big Muck combo with a medium grog.. no, no make that a medium diet-grog <Jimbo WAS trying to watch his weight afterall> and large potato dunked in pure lard"
Peat looked on in disgust at Jimbo for ordering meat.  He couldn't bring himself to do that since accidently carving up his father one evening and slow cooking him on a stick and eating him and making left overs that lasted the better part of a week, cause his daddy was one FAAAAAAT man.  No ever since that accident, Peat was disgusted at the thought of meat.
So instead he ordered the McGrilled-Veggie combo.
"But Peat," exclaimed a surprised Jimbo "I thought you wanted a Content-Meal?!!?"

     As the two of them sat on the ground, with putrid grease dripping from their eyes, they ate their food with great gusto, the knights of the great tourney began to pass them by.
     "I know that one!" screamed Poxy with livid fury.  "It's Sir Giles 'Piggy' Porcine with the black defacating pig for an emblem.  He is the best, though stinkiest, knight that ever tried to have his way with Jaca."
     "What?" Jimbo asked, trying to dislodge a chunk of lard from his ears.
     "Hey there's Sir Longarm Footface.  His bunion face looks to have cleared up.  Jaca wanted to be betrothed to him," cursed Poxy as he writhed with terror on the ground.  Sir Footface looked at him, the bunions on his face bulging red, shook his head and continued on.
     "What?" Jimbo asked, pieces of Poxy's foot spewing forth from his mouth.
    "There is Sir Flat 'Howling' Buttinsky.  His emblem is a bum with escaping gas on a green background.  HEY that's my foot your gnawing on!" Poxy yanked his foot from Jimbo.  "How am I going to run... oh wait, you ate my gout and puss infested pinky toe.  That feels so much better," Poxy scream-purred in delight.
     "Gout?  I thought that was gravy," Jimbo sang. "Oh I thought that was gravy.  OOHHHHH I thought that was GRAAAAAAA VEEEEEEEE."
     "Excuse me," a voice called out.  The two of them turned and were stunned silent.  Before them stood....

... God.  The two idiots dropped to their knees and bowed their heads to the earth in praise.
  "Dear God," Poxy hollared, "Please don't smite me for being a heathen!"
  "Dear God," Jimbo echoed, "Please forgive me for thinking of Poxy and touching myself when he isn't looking!"
  God sort of recoiled in disgust from Jimbo and his gout pussied face, but said nothing at all.  The two raised their heads to regard God and accept His blessings, but God merely stared at them.
  "Dear God," Poxy shrieked, "have we blastphemed?"
  God began to work His mouth in thought, then bellowed "MOOOoooo!"
  Behind God stood a man who had uttered the statement that had originally caught their intention, "Excuse me.  I'm trying to herd this cow to the stock yard.  Can you move please?"

     God, whose name was Hicuppis the God of drunks, retards and accountants, looked at the farmer and in wrath changed the man's head into an udder.  With a thundrous belch Hicuppis disappeared in a vomit and fermented kidney bean reeking cloud.
     "Hicuppis!!!" Jimbo wept.
     "Hicuppis!!!" Poxy raged in pleasure.
     "Mooo!!!" Udder-head wailed with total non-chelance.
     When the dust finally settled, Poxy, Jimbo and Udder-head sat quietly, each revelling in their divine encounter, until that is Jimbo caught a wiff of vinegar.  At first his eyes began to tingle, then twitch until finally he screamed in extasy.  "There be vinegar near!!"  He raced off leaving the other two in his dust.  They shrugged and tore off after him.

     When they finally caught up to Jimbo he was sitting beside a rather large pile of horse dung.  His face contorted as if he had not gone to the bathroom in ages and was desperately trying to.
     "Whatsa matta for you," Poxy asked.
     "Moo?" Udder-head snapped.  The anger in his voice making the udder turn slightly red.
     "Sometimes, I mistake the smell of freshly dumped horse poopoo as vinegar," Jimbo replied.
     "Moo mo mooo moo moooo mooo moooooo moo mo moooo mooo," Udder-head said.
     "He said that's a shame," Poxy replied.  "Oh I learned his langauge while we jogged after you."
     "Mooo moo MOOOOO!" Udder-head uttered.
     "Does your face hurt?" Poxy translated.
     "It looks much nicer than it feels, but I like it a lot."  Jimbo smiled and made his face resemble a pimply prune.
     "Moooooo!"
     "He said 'your face now looks very attractive and he likes the way your eyes are squished and dripping occular juice down your cheeks.  He wonders if you would be so kind as to be his date to the grand tourney?'"
     "I'm spoken for," Jimbo blushed making his face look like a wrinckly blood-blister.
     "Moooo MOOO," Udder-head spasmed and rushed off into the city.
     "What did he say," Jimbo asked.
     "Something about immediate satisfaction required."

Jimbo blushed at the thought and looked away timidly.
All the same, he gave Udderface a reach-around, unfortunately being he was so incompetant he mistook one of Udderface's udders on his face for something else and squeezed to his heart's content.
While it should have given Udderface no satisfaction, Poxy could see by the look in what would be his eyes if he didn't have an udder for a face that he was clearly pleased with the given situation.  Feeling a little awkward and homophobic Poxy did the only thing he could think to do and danced a jig.  
Hoping around from one foot to the other as his bestest friend massaged an udder-faced farmer they made quite a spectacle for the King and Queen as they passed in their royal carriage also on the way to the tourney.  
This was no royalty though, it was that freakin creepy jumbo-headed non-speaking spokesman for Burger King and some equally ugly and frightening jumbo-headed mascot for Dairy Queen who had began dating in hopes to merge the two franchises in one new chain forever to be known as...

Just then Jimbo woke up.  "Damn!" He said.  "Damn damn damn damn!"  He repeated.  He knew that the combination of Burger King and Dairy Queen was a hot idea and would make TONS of cash to buy vinegar.  He vowed to some day figure it out.

But first, he had an immediate craving... he had to smell some vinegar.  He reached under his cot and pulled out a bowl he kept there for just such occasions.  As he took a deep breath and sucked in the vapours of vinegar, he began to retrace his dream.

Jimbo felt that dreams carried a deeper meaning, and if you analysed them enough you could discern it.  He didn't know anyone named Poxy Pete, but the character bore an uncanny resemblence to Pock-faced Paul.  He couldn't quite place how, though.

He thought maybe the cow god was a symbol for his love of milk.  He REALLY enjoyed mixing a little vinegar in his milk at breakfast.

But the knight's tourny, he couldn't figure out.  Perhaps it meant....

...he should go to one.  Or, that he was destined to be a knight.  Or, he sniffed vinegar then, eyes twitched uncontrolably for moments.  As his eyes twitched he moved his hands in front of his face, giving them a strobe light effect with his twitches.
     Suddenly his father burst in, carrying his trademarked feces encrusted, black smith hammer.  "I told you to get and now I mean get!"  His father grabbed him by they eyelids for his father had small girlish hands, though calloused, and could grab almost anything.  Jimbo found himself flicked out onto the front dirt walkway.  His father momentarily set down the hammer to wipe his hands together, signifying he was increadibly hungry.
     After the door slammed Jimbo felt a certain amount of deja-vu, but he thought it was because he wanted to eat an onion just then.  He shrugged and skipped off, yelling "A Hey nonnie nonnie Hey.  Vinegar smells great today."  He repeated that verse over and over until the townspeople wanted to lynch him.  Jimbo had never felt such love before and sang all the more.

Just then someone hopped out of a nearby door...

"Hey-lo Jimbo," Pock-faced Paul screamed in fury.

"Hiya Poxy," Jimbo cooed.  "What's wrong?  Wait.. you aren't Poxy.. you're.. uhmm.. your name is.. dammit why can I never remember your name?!?"

Pock-faced Paul sighed and slapped Jimbo in the back of the head.  "Murphy has done it again," Pock-faced Paul seethed with anger.  "He went and got caught on fire again.  I told him a hunnerd times to stay away from my torches."  Pock-faced Paul looked at Jimbo a moment, "What in Lord Khandybutt's neck warts are you doing here?"  Pock-faced  Paul always used that epitaph, much to the chagrin of Lord Klovadar, the local princeling.

"Have ya got any vinegar?" Jimbo asked hope welling up inside, forcing him to dance his 'happy, I got vinegar dance'.  Suddenly he stopped and had a strange look on his face like he'd already lived through this same conversation 12 posts ago but due to a fast-paced series of gaseous emmisions somewhere immediately behind him he lost his train of thought and proceeded to...

     Scream in ecstacy.
     "Why are you screaming Jimbo?" Pock-face asked not caring the slightest.
     "No reason," Jimbo replied.  "Hey we really should go to the magical forest.  Yeah, the magical forest where creatures talk, trees flirt and birds fly.  That would be an adventure to remember."
     "Where is this magical forest?" Pock-face asked.
     "I think its south," Jimbo replied.
     "This isn't another of those places you dreamed of and we walk for days and find nothing but cow patties and then you remember the place never existed to begin with is it?"
     "Um... no." Jimbo started doing jumping jacks.
     "You're doing jumping jacks, you're lying aren't you?" Pock-face cursed.
     "Um... no," jimbo bellowed as he continued to do jumping jacks, which he did whenever he lied.
     "Well, let's go then," Pock-face decreed.

  "Okie-dokie.. Pock-face.. let's go!" Jimbo rapped in the way only someone with absolutely ZERO rhythm could sing.
Pock-face Paul looked at his friend in total disgust and began walking south.  A couple hundred paces away he asked "So Jimbo, how do you know about this magical forest?"
..
....
......
  Ten or fifteen steps later Paul turned to see why Jimbo was being so quiet, only to see he was practically back where they had started, still doing jumping jacks, but progressing forward at a very very slow pace.  Pock-face knew no one considered him wise.. or even remotely intelligent for that matter, but there were times he wondered how Jimbo managed to get through a day, let alone live as long as he had.
  "JIMBO" he yelled, "STOP DOING JUMPING JACKS... EVEN IF YOU WERE LYING ABOUT THE MAGICAL FOREST, THE LIE IS OVER... JUST COME CATCH UP!"  
  Paul sighed as he watched the look on Jimbo's face go through a variety of struggles trying to come to grasps with that concept.  Twenty minutes later Jimbo finally stopped jumping his jacks and walked an almost straight line to rejoin Paul.
  Deciding to risk further delay Pock-face asked "so as I was asking Jimbo, how did you hear about this magical forest?"
  "Well it all started in this dream I had about a friend of mine.. we'll call him Steph-anne... anyhow I didn't really know him so well as to call him my friend but someone told me about him because he loved trees.. they used other words but I think he was just some sort of nature-loving individual cause I couldn't figure out what else they might have meant... anyhow I dreamed about him and that's when I knew that there was really a magical forest where trees flirt and creatures talk!!!  But I was making up the whole bit about birds flying..." At the last admission Jimbo's face went red and he returned to doing his jumping jacks.
  Pock-face Paul sighed and decided...

...to projectile vomit.  And he did.  It was one of the few skills he had, but he did it so well.  When he was a babe in his mother's arms he blinded her with one shot.  She screamed and died, though not on the same day.  Jimbo's face was covered with a light brown sheen of bile.  Jimbo's eyes twitched uncontrolably.  "Oh crap!" pock-face yelled.  "I forgot I had vinegar and strawberry shakes this morning for breakfast!