by J. S. Volpe
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Ludwig van Beethoven flew swiftly through the gorgim village, pausing briefly at strategic spots to touch his torch to thatched roofs, straw bale walls, dry wooden pillars, curtains flapping in open windows.
By the time he reached the far side of town, he could hear screams behind him and see flickering orange light playing on the walls of the buildings still ahead of him. Grinning, he glanced back. Over half the buildings were ablaze. gorgim were racing about, some panicking, some pulling other gorgim and pets and personal belongings to safety, some fleeing the village altogether. Columns of sparks whirled high into the night sky.
“Ha!” Beethoven cried. “You have just been fucked by Ludwig van Beethoven! Now come out, stupid little bird man and give Ludwig van Beethoven back his fucking coat!”
He hurled the torch through the open door of a stable. It landed atop a heap of straw, which immediately burst into flame. Then he shot straight up a few hundred feet into the sky and hovered there, watching the frantic village for any sign of the damnable bird-thing.