Sir Hammerlock and the Three Bullymongs

       Once upon a chilly afternoon, in the glacier-ey arctic of Pandora, there lived a Bullymong family of three: Papa-mong, Mama-mong, and Midge-mong. On this day, the were delightfully enjoying some hot bowls of Chicken soup, and they also discovered that you can eat it.

       “BLARGLARGARGARGH,” said Papa-mong.

       “BLARGURARGAGRIRR,” said Mama-mong.

       “BRAAAARGRAGARARAR,” said Midge-mong.

       “GRRAAAUGHAHAGATA,” suggested Papa-mong, and the family decided to go on a leisurely stroll through the ice and snow while their soup cooled off.

       Meanwhile I, Sir Hammerlock, marched right into the snowy climates after fighting off several armies of Threshers. Now, I desired a more challenging game, and Bullymongs seemed to fill that desire. I took note of this little frozen home by the side of the icy mountain, and the explorer in me decided to have a gander around before the residents returned.

       Upon entering the establishment, I was greeted with three gigantic bowls of soup. I was famished after fighting off so many Threshers, so I decided to sit at the first bowl and chow down.

       “This bowl’s too hot!” I shouted, spitting the soup out like I was going through an excorsism. I tried the second bowl.

       “This bowl’s too cold!” I shouted. Thankfully, it helped sooth some of the burns in my mouth from the soup prior, so it wasn’t all that bad. I went for the third bowl.

       “This bowl’s just right!” I said. However, I was nearly full at this point, so I didn’t bother finishing it.

       I began to make my wait into the living quarters, and as I entered, I laid eye upon three chairs. I decided to sit on the first one.

       “This chair’s too hard!” I said. It figures, as it was just a rock covered in ice.

       “This chair’s too soft!” I said, sitting in the second chair. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized it was not a chair, but rather a pile of dead bandit skin. I questioned as to why I thought it was a chair in the first place. I only prayed that the third chair was an actual chair.

       “This chair’s just right!” I said, because it was an actual fucking chair.

       I began to grow tired, so I decided to make my way upstairs, where three individual beds where there to greet me. I lied on the first bed.

       “This bed’s too hard!” I said. Then again, it was a bed made of bones, so I didn’t know what else to expect.

       “This bed’s too sharp!” I said, lying in the second one. I suddenly began regretting life, as I realized that I was actually lying in Bullymong fecal matter.

       “This bed’s just right!” I said, lying in the third. Even though the bed was just made of snow, it was a hell of a lot more comforting than anything else I’ve sat on in this house.

       At this point, the Bullymong family had returned from their walk through the snow and they were immediately angry upon entering their home.

       “GARAGAHAHAHA,” said Papa-mong, looking at his bowl.

       “BRAGUAHALATADA,” said Mama-mong, looking at her bowl.

       “FARGAHAGARGAGRAH,” said Midge-mong, looking at his bowl.

       The family made their way to the living room, and their anger boiled even further.

       “GRUAHBARAGAAA,” said Papa-mong, looking at his chair.

       “GAAAAGAGRRRRGAAH,” said Mama-mong, looking at her chair.
       
       “GAGAGRRAHAFALATA,” said Midge-mong, looking at his chair.

       Thankfully, I was starting to wake from my afternoon nap by the time they got upstairs. Before they could even do so much a lung at me, I whipped out my DAHL sniper rifle, and with three loud bangs, their heads all popped like ballons! Thanks, DAHL Corp.!

       Yes, that’s the twist, ladies and gentlemen. This was a DAHL Corporation gun advertisement.