Yes, I know this is quite short, but the author has still instructed that it should be read. I am sorry…

- The Narrator

You're still here? 

Good for you.

Bufford lumbered through the desert, looking for banknotes. It didn’t matter what currency or denomination, he just wanted some friends.

You see, every banknote houses a demon. These demons sometimes invite the ghost of whoever is depicted in the banknote to talk. The demon in the one-dollar bill Bufford had was named Bob. Bon had invited Lincoln over for dinner one night and interviewed him for “The Banknote Times.” During that time it was clear that Lincoln was still quite angry at Booth for shooting him. At Lincoln’s funeral, his partially decayed corpse busted open the coffin right before being buried and yelled “Avenge me my little minions!” then promptly died. He expired shortly thereafter. He is still quite dead, I am sorry to say. 

“So…” said Bob.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“So?” said Bufford.

Bob was silent for a bit. “I cannot make much small talk, sadly.”

“It is quite hard, I agree,” said Bufford.

As silence ensued the narrator started to talk to the reader or listener or whatever you call them. 

Reader, this is Bufford, the big elephant that housed many little cities throughout his body. Every animal in the world of _____ housed several lands within their bodies. The lands and cities could be situated anywhere. Such as the city of Pakaderm, where a good amount of tis story takes place. It is situated in—

Reader, am I boring you? I hope I am not… Well, I don’t have a way of knowing, sadly… 

I’m so lonely.

Well, the city of Pakaderm is situated in the upper left nostril of Bufford, about two thirds up his trunk. 

Buford and Bob waddled out into the sunset.

Reader, I will not info dump anymore, I do not want to bore you. I will leave that to the author, who is really a very nice person. If by nice you mean kind and a little lazy at times.

Anyways, read on.