You decide that since your taller you might be able to outrun the xenophobic midgets. You hear a faint whistling sound then you trip and fall over as a thrown bola wraps around your legs. You don't have time to get back up. You begin a prayer but it's cut off when ten rockets hit on or near your body and the explosion sends the charred bits of your body flying across the landscape. Soon after the elves return back to their camp and the vultures descend upon your conveniently cooked and bite-sized remains. Another day, another fool blown to bits in the desert.
The end
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