What a Load of Bull
A pair of horns sits atop a pedestal. Why are you here? What is it for? I don't know, *you* write it in the next chapter--this is just the choice! Lo, and you don the horns, don them you do and MOOOOOOO! In an explosion of hair and hooves and muscle you fall to the floor like a sack of potatoes, twitching and stretching and swelling like a water bed being filled with a hose. Soon your eyes have migrated to the far edges of your face, and you lick your cow-like snout with your huge tongue. Lo, thou'rt a minotaur.
As you sit up, you realize the floor is stony and wet, the cold seeping through your fur and numbing your tail. It's dark here; you're in some kind of corridor with high walls. Could it be... the labyrinth?
Written by Mr.Peaches on 17 July 2007