Out in the bald valley, a rugged, burley brown fellow lifted tall granite slabs, balancing them until they accepted a perfect upright posture. The man possessed mouse-like attributes - long white whiskers, protrusive yet delicate nose, pronounced ears, it all conflicted with the rest of his body, a muscle-stacked legend far from rodential in its capabilities. Mounds of brown beef bolstered every twitch of his labor. It all added up to the kind of conquest that belonged buried under gravelly, compact soil, without so much as a coffin to honor his departure. Such valleys and trenches between each glorious bulge was criminal enough, but to put them to use was an executable offense. Chazkechy himself reverted to his equine roots to bulk his own anatomy. He aimed for an even battlefield, even slightly tipping the odds in his favor. The tremendous chest wouldn't mar a self-taken photo, either. He imagined himself standing atop the defeated remains of that wretched beast. Perhaps he'd accumulate a little post-humous bloat, too.