The Queer

To the peaks, cried the voice. In a hurry, they swarmed up the slopes. The queer ran ahead, with his shiny white butt exposed to the world.
Everyone has a red butt, like a baboon, how dare he practice witchcraft of an unnatural nature to morph the pigmentation of his butt to white?

In a frenzy they bore the torches with flames flaring high, with a pungent odour of hatred did their breath flume out of their flared nostrils. Chanting their leader's limericks, they proceeded with self righteous zeal, their quarry with a white shiny butt remaining but a fraction of a yard ahead. To the summit did force the mad crowd, the white butted queer looks over the edge to find a sheer drop. Turning around, he faces the frothing mob. In his desperation, he looks upwards to find clouds with leering gazes towards his shiny white butt.

The rioting mob proceeded forth with a united blood-thirst and a loud piercing cry which awoke a pensive monk from his contemplation of the infinite. He appeared with a trail of vapour before the rabid rioters, his calm, electrifying gaze stopped them in their tracks. Through his aura of blue electric arcs, the queer could be seen with a dumbstruck expression on his brow.

What be this soul's misdeed that merits such repercussions from society queried the ascetic suspended before the mob.
He holds the magical skills of sinister potential, he is capable of alchemy which turns our proud race's red butts into disgraceful shiny white butts.

I am capable of even greater alchemy you insane fools. Of powerful energy be I possessed, now shall I smote you all with some of my purifying piety. As fools did you summit this mount, now I shall make you turn tail as enlightened, clearer minds.

The queer returned home a normal person that night and thanked the great soul who came to his timely rescue. White or red mattered not any more, peace was restored until another issue were to surface.