*Cobbler’s mind tends to regress when under stress; in this case his mind is now running in the medieval ages.
With a flash of nauseating puce, Migraine Man staggered in carrying de-toasted dog stuffed into a frosted water bottle. Once again Migraine Man had saved the day using his amazing possession of power of painful pressure present on places placed over potatoes (i.e. brains).
“Greetings mere mortal flies, normal flies and the occasional immortal fly” boomed Migraine Man “I have brought back your stolen items and restored this land back to a state of peace, prosperity and putrid stench.” At this Migraine Man descended amidst the flies cheers and hoorays handing out the reclaimed spoils of the war that was not a war, but rather an armed robbery, without the arms. “However I must hasten off to my hideout, the Headache Hovel, Huzzah!.”
“Who was that terribly mysterious masked fly?” Fred asked around. “Indeed, I think that Migraine Man can completely solve several persistent problems of ours!”
“Foolish Fred,” Robert retorted “Migraine Man didn’t dispose of old Gooda Gustav judiciously just to torture us using his horribly pathetic-problem-solving skills! We watched how his supposed skills destroyed dozens of our favorite farms!”
“Really Robert?” Fred fumed “I irrationally thought that Gooda Gustav wasn’t wasteful, uninformed, uneducated, bean-brained…”
“Hey Migraine Man was trying his best!” interjected Cobbler who had mysteriously and suddenly appeared after Migraine man suddenly and mysteriously disappeared.
“Migraine Man certainly could have handled things tons better, but he hardly tried” Timothy said “shouldn’t he have made modifications to that Migraine Man name? Nothing could confuse more multitudes of ordinary people.”
“What are you talking about? Migraine Man’s derives his name form the same place he derives his power” Cobbler cried “Migraine sounds a lot like migration, and birds migrate and everyone knows that ‘birds of a feather flock together’ and a feather is what he uses to tickle people”
“Wait!” Wally exclaimed “Everyone fully forgot how helpless everyone effectively becomes because of old-fashioned feathers! Quick we must cast of this silly speech pattern and head to the chicken coops, a feather for every fly and the world is ours!” At this Wally and the others rushed towards the farms gathering all the flies from the village forming a mob full of flies carrying torches, feathers and the occasional flaming feather.
“Forsooth, alack and alas!*” Cobbler wailed “We shan’t revolt against our masters, it doth not be right, nay it doth not even be left, it doth be an affront and abomination to all mankind it doth be a disgrace for all that we stand for!”
“But we are tsetse flies not men.” protested a random fly “so who cares what mankind thinks.”
“Alas ‘tis true, such logic cannot be bested by word or sword. Avast let loose the feather of WAR!”