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It's usually around this time of year that the village gathers enough supplies to last through the winter. All are busy with their work. Making sure their houses are warm and cozy, the food stores well stocked, and the slippers lined with extra fluff.
That is, all except for one.
For days now, visions in his dreams have foretold the coming of the end. He has tried to warn others, telling them of his dreams. But they don't listen. They never do. They cast him aside, and pay him no mind.
"I'm telling you. Earthquakes at mid day will foretell the coming. From the sky will descend our end. Endless blue, and massive beyond description. The lake will overflow, and wash everything away. You have to believe me!"
"Sure ... sure. Let me know when Elvis gets here."
It went on like that for the whole day. The one who knew too much trying to convince minds too little to see the bigger picture.
Eventually they stuffed him away with the food, so that they could continue their work unimpeded.
It did not take long before the earthquakes started. Tremors here and there. They got progressively worse. And yes, they began at noon on the spot.
Each tremor was worse than the last, until an eerie silence took over.
A collective sigh of relief took over. But it was short lived.
As foretold, the sky seemed to grow closer and closer until it was just overhead. A massive thoom was heard, followed by another. With so much force that some of the smaller houses were blown clear from their foundations. Wind whipped through the village from one direction, and then the direct opposite.
It all felt calm then. Nothing happened for quite awhile. But of course, half a prophecy just isn't enough.
The lake began to overflow, just as he said it would. So much so in fact that it swept away the vast majority of the village, leaving none of the houses intact.
Those on the mountainside fared just as poorly. In fact, the only building left was the food storage, with the attached old mill, where they stashed their crackpot to keep him out of the way.
And just like that, it was all over. He tried to warn them. They could have listened. They chose not to. They chose their fate.
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That would be the end of our little tale, but only if we look at it from one perspective.
Let's look at this again from a much different perspective.
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A blue and white dragoness awakens to start a new day. Later than usual, and nearing half past 11 in the morning. She sat up and stretched, getting the kinks out, and ready to begin her day.
But first, a nice bath.
She puts on a nice soft terrycloth robe and looks around by her bedside for her slippers.
"I thought I had them around here somewhere." She says, getting onto her hands and knees, looking under the bed, and then through to the opposite side.
"Guess not." She said as she gets back to her feet and walks towards her bathroom.
Once there, she notices her pink fuzzy slippers by the bathtub. "So that's where I left them" she says.
A momentary glance at the clock. Noon exactly. She disrobes and sets it aside, while her bath fills. Standing in such a way that both of her feet are now framing her slippers.
It doesn't take too long for the bath to fill. And once it has, she steps in and gets comfortable in the warm water. In the process of pulling her tail up and over the side of the tub, a few drops of water fall and land on her slippers, by the heel.
A perfectly executed strike if there ever was one. Two water droplets is all it took to annihilate a weesaur village, with but one being saved.
Once her bath was complete, and she was ready to tackle the rest of the day, she put her robe and slippers back on, and wandered towards the living room.
She takes the TV remote in hand and turns the TV on.
"Oooh, a Godzilla marathon. I guess my day is planned."
She takes a seat on a couch and props her feet up on a foot rest. She looks conspicuously down at a particular spot on her slipper and says "Oh, and happy birthday."
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And that would be the end, if not for the other side of the story.
Let's listen in.
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A lone figure emerges from the food storage building.
"Do you know how much I had to pay these extra to do all this? Months and months of effort to make the village. You and your ego, i swear. Look how meticulous this was. There was a whole freakin' medieval village here!"
A set of black clawed blue fingers descended from the sky and adjusted the entire landscape, fitting the slipper better against her foot.
If you listen closely enough, you might have even have heard a squeakle.
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And see, the moral of the story is to always listen to weesaur oracles! Or is it to never be an extra in a weesaur production?