This is the fastest I've ever written I think
There once lived a young man, handsome as daylight, bright and strong. He was known as Twitter, beloved by the people, a favorite of the gods. His chosen companion, Tumblr, was not dear to the people or the gods. He, a traveling storyteller, preferred solitude. His tales were strange and often unpleasant to the ears, but enchanting in their vulgarity.
One day, Tumblr's patron goddess, Yahoo, enraged by his vulgar words, put a curse on him. He was not to utter vulgarities, speak of the pleasures of the flesh. His stories of lycanthrope companions were lost to the sands of time, and with them, his last listeners turned away from him.
Twitter watched others laugh at his beloved, turn him away from their doors, and a dark thought settled over him. He was perfect in every way, his only fault was the affiliation with the cursed taleweaver. And so, little by little, they drifted apart.
In his travels, Tumblr stumbled into the temple of Apollo, who bestowed upon him the gift of prophecy. He made acquaintance with the trifecta of wise temple maidens who induced visions through hallucinogenic incense. His stories changed, still bizarre and often vulgar, but at times full of wonder and truth.
At that time, Twitter enjoyed all the luxuries of the mortal world. He was the companion of kings, wealthy merchants, legendary heroes, wise philosophers.
One day, a man richer than rich, richer than the God of wealth, went to the senate of directors and asked to buy the most precious thing in the entire polis.
The senate thought long and hard, and said: "do you wish for our finest singer, the most sweet-voiced of the land, Spotifia? I am afraid I cannot part with her. "
"No, " said the rich man, his voice cold and harsh, "I said I have come to buy your most precious thing."
"Have you come for our gambler, the chosen of the god of luck, MAXimil? They earn us more riches than you can offer. I shall not part with them. "
"No," the rich man repeated, "I have come to buy your most precious thing. I have come for Twitter."
The senators laughed, then, for they knew this must be a joke. Twitter was too beloved by the gods to be owned as a servant. But the rich man did not smile. He offered money, then more and more still. As the goddess of hubris clouded his mind, he offered more money than he could afford to spend, more than the senate could afford to refuse, for it was enough gold to form armies five times the size of their polis.
And so Twitter, the proud Twitter, the untouchable Twitter who laughed at kings and scholars alike, became a servant.
As he was put onto a gilded ship to be sailed off to the rich man's land, he prayed to the gods that granted him beauty and strength and a sharp tongue, but none answered. His cruelty and vanity made them turn away, and he was too full of his power to notice.
Finally, the young man remembered one more name. He called for Tumblr, his forgotten companion.
First time he called, the birds took off and flew in all directions. Second time he called, the animals fled in fear. Gathering all the strength he had, he called a third time.
His call shook the earth and the skies, and in an instant, Apollo's taleweaver stood on the shore.
Twitter cried in relief. "My love!" he called, "save me! Save me, and I shall be yours for the eternity to come. I shall bask you in glory and riches. I shall make the people love you."
Tumblr looked at the rich old man, at the gilded ship, gilded chains, at the other slaves that were meant to please the rich man during his trip, dressed in the finest clothes fit for kings and immortals.
"You'll like your new life, dear. " said Tumblr. "You are idle: he shan't make you do much. You are prideful: he shall treat you like a god. You are vain, and so you might fear you might be forgotten, one servant among many. Fear not," he smiled. "I shall sing a song of us."
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