The conclave of the realm’s greatest heroes was well into their cups when they began to argue of who was the strongest. After many boasts and claims, Jeroboam the Holy Wizard claimed he could summon angels.
He was pressed to prove it, and one slurring conjuration later, a tall, winged being hovered before them, dripping and nude.
“This’d better be good, Jerry,” She said. “I was in the bath.” It might’ve ended there, had someone in the back not whistled. The ensuing smiting broke up the party, and the group reluctantly admitted that maybe they weren’t so great after all.

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