Metalcurse yelled at one of his lazy workers. Why did every one of them have to fall asleep on the job? He lived in the Realm of the Goblins and, of course, he himself was a goblin.

His workers were busy creating a weapon to destroy the most hated of Metalcurse's enemies.

He would use it against the trolls who teased him for being small, the giants who would occasionally step on some of his workers when they were crossing the Realm to get to their own home, Giant Mountain, and, of course, the dreadful elves for making better weapons, homes, and having the ability to take care of the most monstrous creatures.

Soon, Metalcurse thought, someone is going to pay for all of this.

Metalcurse watched his workers build the devious thing that would slice his enemies to pieces.

One of them, Wildbard, messed up on making the grip of the weapon and instead of making it blue, he made it orange. So Metalcurse slapped him for that.

Another worker also screwed up on making the blade; he made it green instead of red. Metalcurse slapped that worker also.

All of his workers were constantly screwing up. Why did it have to happen now?

Metalcurse remembered another time when he was making a weapon to destroy the centaurs.

One worker made the blade purple and one made the grip pink. He didn't have female goblins; he just had dumb ones. So he kicked those goblins out for not making the sword correctly.

Instead of the goblins wanting to get their jobs back, they played "I'm a Pretty Goblin" with each other, brushing each other's hair, but they didn't have any hair, so the goblin getting their "hair" brushed would scream like a banshee.

Soon enough, the sword was finished. Time to let all of my enemies die, Metalcurse thought.