With everything in place, he crumpled up the wet parchment and held it over a candle, drying it so that the pulp would retain its ball shape. He only used a little piece of parchment—too much made the ball too heavy, ensuring it wouldn’t travel far enough. He nodded, satisfied, and set to work. With an eye that pierced over the glassy peaks at his goal, he did the calculations in his head. Well, more like guesstimations. He placed the nail of his right index finger to the fingerprint of his thumb and positioned it behind the ball, which was sitting mounted atop another shot glass. For a full half hour he sat there, getting the shot just right. He had failed too many times before. Now, however, he was ready, now he had learned from his mistakes, now he would decapitate the vile glassy tyrant who sat upon his mountain peak mocking the mighty hero!