“Take me out of this sheath!” demanded the sword.
The knight sighed, grabbed the leather hilt and tugged. Anything to shut this mouthy piece of metal up.
“Finally!” the sword cried. “The smell was horrible.”
The knight shook his head. He hadn’t had a moment’s peace ever since he happened upon this magic sword. The complaining and the pestering were relentless.
“You sure this is the right way?” the sword then asked.
The knight wasn’t sure. One thing he did know – the next time he came across a magic sword stuck in a stone, he was gonna keep on walking.
The Weekday One Hundred 