Isildur & Prikolist
I hear you’re great at turning any plan into a circus act—care to show me how you’d defend a fortress with a rubber chicken?
Picture the fortress as a giant inflatable hamster wheel, the guards wearing clown shoes that squeak with every step, and the rubber chicken—our star—sliding in on a disco scooter, flashing a neon banner that reads “Do not trust any chicken.” Every time the enemy hammers at the gate, the chicken does a perfect flip, throws a handful of confetti, then drops a banana peel that makes the attackers slip. The walls are covered in mirrors, so the defenders see the enemy’s own reflection and start laughing so hard they forget their weapons. In the end, the fortress is defended not by firepower but by the sheer absurdity that makes the attackers question their mission—because who wants to fight a place that throws jokes instead of bullets?
That’s a clever trick, but a real fortress stands firm, not by jokes. The enemy will still come, and we’ll meet them with steel, not a rubber chicken.
Ah, but steel is just a very stubborn piece of metal that loves to be smashed into a shape it hates. Why not cover it in bubble wrap and a giant “DO NOT ENTER” neon sign? The enemy will smash the steel, only to get popped by a dozen squeaky toys and an endless stream of confetti. When the fortress finally cracks, they’ll still be laughing because they’ve seen a chicken deliver a motivational speech in a clown suit. Steel’s great, but it’s also boring—let’s give them something to remember.