Nobody knows exactly how or why the events in this tale came to pass. All that is known is the story, passed down from generation to generation, and even from one culture to another. Some people would have you believe that this tale begins in the third age of the rising EGG, but I know better than this. In fact, the beginning of this saga stretches as far back as the forging of CatMan and his seven sons. It is well known among men that the most wise and righteous CatMan had six sons of virtue and promise, however it is less known that he indeed had a seventh son. This son was named Hairy Seven, for he was indeed hairy, and deformed in the shape of the number seven. The deformation was not in any way geometrically sound, and he was a lumpy, squishy excuse of a human number. This ruled out the possibility of an acting role on Sesame Street, which had at his birth seemed like his only option. Catman was furious about how useless this child was, but as all good men know, Catman is a caring and merciful guardian. He decided to hide Hairy Seven away in a cave. The cave of course was no ordinary lump of stone, but in fact had the power to gift it's inhabitant with whatever possessions they desired. Hairy Seven lived in this cave for thousands of years, and never wished for anything except a bowl of pasta each time his tummy grumbled. The cave would, each time, supply the bowl of pasta. Hairy Seven became a very weak and frail number over the years, as pasta contains only the most basic of nutritious
requirements. His hair began to fall away from his body, and he carefully collected it as it did so, making sure to keep it all in a small pile at the very back of the cave. The cave was filled with pure and impenetrable darkness, and so eventually Hairy Seven's eyes began to close themselves up. After a few hundred years he'd lost the power of sight completely. He cared not, for the years trapped in this cave had not been kind to his brain, and all that mattered to him was his next dish of pasta. The thick but soft squelch as his formerly hairy teeth sank through the beige flesh. The strange watery but kind of solid residue that remained around the edge of the bowl if he left the pasta in it too long. The fact that it went soft when you cooked it, but if you cooked it too much it just went hard again, oh the fun he'd had softening and hardening pasta. All these things he loved, but he knew, deep down inside his hideous body, that soon his time to leave would come.

That day he awoke, like any other, and collected the hair he'd lost in the night. he carefully placed it on top of his pile and sat in front of it cross legged. He pursed his lips and let out a low and sad noise. He'd never made such a noise before, and the cave was terrified. Hairy Seven's blind eyes moved towards the place where the pasta would normally appear. He reached upwards with his scrawny arms and wailed uncontrollably. His teeth had become soft and useless from so much pasta, and as he shrieked and cried they fell one by one from his mouth and onto the ground. Forty nine teeth lay there, each half crimson, half pearl. He stopped wailing and stooped down to pick them up, scrambling with his hands and finding all but one. He placed them atop the hair pile and wept quietly to himself. The cave was greatly worried, Hairy Seven had never been like this before. A cold, untouched bowl of pasta sat on the ground next to the hair pile. Hairy Seven had not even considered eating today, while usually by this time he'd be on his third bowl. A calm and soothing sound, like wind, echoed around Hairy Seven:

"If you don't eat your pasta," said the cave's quiet voice, "Then you'll not grow big and strong."

Hairy Seven stopped weeping and bit his lip, shaking his head as he did so.

"Listen," said the cave, "I know you're sad, but there's nothing for it. Just eat up."

Hairy Seven spat towards the pasta. "I'll not be eating any more while I'm here, cave." He stood up, looking down at the ground with his blind eyes, "And I'll be leaving here soon, be sure of that!"

These words troubled the cave greatly. Never before had it heard such defiance. It decided to serve up the noon bowl of pasta as usual though, in an attempt to make things normal again. But Hairy Seven did not eat. Instead, he sat in the corner next to his hair pile, pulling what he had left off of his body and adding it to the pile on the ground. This went on for some weeks, until Seven no longer had a single hair. he smiled a toothless grin and breathed out heavily, for he'd been holding his breath since he'd last spoken. Seven felt his way towards the dining area of the cave, which was now filled with bowls of pasta. He began to dip his hands into the bowls, slurring them around for a few seconds and then throwing them aside. The cave simply watched in fear, not knowing what in EGG's holy name was happening. After all but one of the bowls had been thrown away, Seven sat resting next to the one that remained. The cave's cold voice whispered again:

"Seven," it said, "I don't know how to help you other than be completely honest about what I've been doing, during your time here."

The corner of Seven's mouth twitched as he sat otherwise motionless, listening.

"What I mean to say is," continued the cave, "All the pasta you've been eating... has been poisoned."

Seven still did not move, except for his twitch.

"I'm sorry, Seven," said the cave, it's monotone faltering for just a second, "You have to understand that everything I did was done under the best intentions. In that bowl, is the last piece of poisoned pasta. If you really want to leave here, Seven, then I'm afraid eating that is the only way."

Seven's numb fingers fumbled around the bowl until they came to rest on something soft and welcoming, something he recognised as his only source of happiness since he could remember. He sighed gently and lifted the piece of pasta, resting it against his face. This piece was different. This piece was bigger than the rest, maybe even a meter in size. Seven had no idea how it had fitted in the bowl, but none of that mattered now. This piece, this was his final dance with his squidgy, filling mistress. He breathed in sharply and a small trail of drool fell from his lips. He sat, caressing that piece of pasta and drooling for many years, until one holy day. On that day, he simply reached up with one bony hand, and rested it against his right, sealed and useless eye. He slowly pried his eyelids open to reveal the melted blob of shit that his eye had become. He calmly scooped it out with a finger, and began to roll the piece of pasta up into a ball.

The cave was sobbing uncontrollably;
"This isn't what I meant, Seven." It said, "This isn't what I wanted."
The cave looked at what Seven had become. A shaking, bald and toothless, blind mess that couldn't even eat pasta any more.
"You ungrateful little fucker," the cave hissed, "I should never have believed in you."

Seven could not even hear the cave now, all the sound he heard was the dull throbbing of the pasta ball in his hand, and the screeching pile of hair and teeth in the corner. He slowly positioned the pasta in front of his empty eye socket and inserted it. Each millimetre it moved sent shudders and spasms through his body, he was screaming now, he knew that much, but he couldn't hear it. He could feel thousands of colours and animals swirling around him as his arm fell down to his side and he slumped back into a crumpled pile on the ground. Foam was pouring from his mouth, a thing he could simply not tolerate, even at this the most amazing of times. He scrambled around with an arm on the ground, still spasming. He eventually found the one tooth that he had never added to his pile. He grasped it firmly in his hand and began to run it across his rapidly swelling belly. After a few runs it cut, and tore open, spilling hundreds and hundreds of tiny numbers onto the ground. Each one was a shining, perfectly formed Seven. His remaining eye peeled open and stared in glee at these things vomiting forth from his stomach. His spasms grew more violent and he knew his time was almost done.

"Now," said the cave, "I'm glad we came to an agreement."

The tiny sevens were running madly around the cave floor, desperately trying to find an exit. Formerly Hairy Seven's smile disappeared as he realised what was going to happen. The tiny sevens made their way to his hair and teeth pile, rolling around in it and screeching with joy.

"I see." sad Seven, "they are in fact not my children, but yours, Cave."

The cave echoed a deep and terrible chuckle, as Seven lay gasping his last breaths. His eye slid shut, and his spasms began to calm. In his mind he was dreaming things that he'd never seen. As the tiny sevens moved on him, and began to devour his body, he was not even aware of it. He was in another place, racing through dreams and yet they felt as though they were passing at the speed of reality. He was young, clean and well formed, a shining blue seven. He had it all going for him, soon to be the youngest number actor on Sesame street. He had a loving family of wolves that cared for his every need. Then he was older, a man, and he had his own family. A whole family of sevens, all perfect and all so happy. Then he was older still, and yet he remained a fine figure of a seven. He was sat with his children, themselves now adult sevens with their own careers. He dreamed like this for just a minute, but to Seven it felt like years, longer even than he'd been trapped in the cave.

"The only thing," Seven gasped, through bloodied lips, "that I regret... Is that I never got your name,
Cave."

The cave laughed again, this time a higher pitch though.
"My name? You can call me, Vernon."

And with that, Seven drew his final gasp, and died.

ossim story d00d