The fluffy garubas hated the wizard that lived at the top of the hill. He would pick all of the mushrooms right before they were ripe, he would steal the occasional spig from the enclosure, and he would never, ever invite a single garuba into his home on feasting day.
Such rudeness.
One not-so-fluffy garuba by the name of Zoink decided that he would approach the wizard on a particularly gloomy Wugday. What else was a garuba to do when the rain was falling, the spigs were hibernating, and the flazors roamed the skies in search of fluffy snacks?
Zoink stepped carefully along the muddy trail, always keeping his brown hood up to conceal his blue hair from watching flazor eyes. Having recently endured an unfortunate case of hoy-lice, his fur had been shaven so close to the roots that he now itched from three-day stubble.
Doing his best to keep his mind off the scratching, Zoink weaved his way past an over-ripened prick-flig bush and found himself smack dab in front of the wizard's home.
The cave had been hollowed into soft sandstone and above the entrance the wizard (or one of his ancestors) and scribbled the phrase, "Tiko Be'Hain" which loosely translated into garuba meant "Buzz off you hoy-lice infested asses."
"Great," said Zoink aloud, "Maybe I should just go straight home."
"You most certainly should," came a voice from the dark confines of the cave.
But being the impudent garuba that he was, Zoink ran his paw through his stubble-length chest fur, huffed a few times in the manner that would send spigs scattering in fear, and entered the cave.
