Aser, a half-crazed hedge shaman, dodges a confrontation with the most dangerous question in the world ...
So this troll is trying on a suit of armor in the Midgard Macy's store. And the troll turns to the saleslady and says, "Does this make my ass look big?" Although the saleslady had a braincase about big enough for three neurons to sit side by side, theater-style, she did have the presence of mind to say, "Oh, Hon, come over here and look in the mirrors," and under cover of one of the immense troll cheeks in question, bolt for the break room door not to be seen again for hours, which is why salespersons still have a large population in the world while other species seem to die out and disappear from the face of the earth.
The troll bought the armor, nearly a given, because of the glittery nature of the metal and trolls being drawn to the glowing burnish of certain metals. And out the front doors Troll went, wearing the off-the-rack big-ass armor, shiny as the ocean at noon.
You better believe that when the troll asked the Ass Question, I hid under the racks of burlap robes and kept out of sight, because the size of one's ass has led to more global conflicts in the history of history than you can shake a staff at. Part of the progress of self-actualization is the awareness of and the willing recognition of the size and appearance of one's own ass and open acceptance thereof. Or not, which is why there are so many elf-gyms and why they diet so obsessively.
How do you know if you have a Big Ass? Logically this seems to be the starting point for many in the pursuance of the answers to the Big Question: "Who am I?" In fact, the size of one's ass nearly requires one to make a cognitive shift from self-identification to self's ass-acceptance and identification thereby.
Passing by my own Ass Questions for the moment, how does one determine if one has a Big Ass? The first criterion should be: how many items of household cupboardry and stocks of shelves in stores does one knock off in passing at least four times a week, not realizing such until one hears the telltale crash off the stern?
Secondly, how often does one's troll or orc ass get stuck in chairs when one is visiting? When your host has to call the retainers and have multiple foots braced against one's nether portions while the sturdy servants pull on the seating implement ... ah, well, one can begin to admit to Big Assed-ness.
In the third prominent judgment, does one find that NO ONE is willing to make Ass Jokes or even say the word "Ass" in one's presence? Oh, yeah, if all three of these criteria are met, you probably have a Big Ass.
Now, ultimately, is that a bad thing? If you have the ass of a Big-Ass Troll, and a shiny armor to cover it, does that not mean that you have the shielding power of a Abrams 1-A front line tank with which to protect your interests? And indeed, should the winters become as deep with ice and cold as they did not so long ago, would not the insulation of a chubby, well-fed butt keep one from freezing as one waits in the shadows to relieve the drunken passing burgher of his currency and adornments?
Or you can just get down to the nitty-gritty and decide whether you want to look like an elf with bulimia or whether you would rather snuggle up to a horny old wizard in the bar and let him buy you appetizers and drinks for a couple hours, or order enough pizzas to satisfy all the mates in the gang. The trick is to enjoy what you do, as long as you're not endangering the alliance. And ass be damned, what really matters is how sharp you keep your sword, how willing you are to check 'round corners to see that the coast is clear, and whether or not you are willing to stand shoulder to shoulder and take on the enemy. Or, as the case may be, ass to ass.
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