Papa embarked on a seven day journey to negotiate a peace treaty with the Humans, and he returned two days earlier than expected with the top half of his head missing.
One of the Human children thought his red silky hair was a stocking cap. Yanked off his scalp and part of the skull. A shame, really, because the peace talks had been successful until that point.
Papa fired his ass laser and bisected the child’s body from groin to neck.
The Humans shrieked like prehistoric simians when the guts plopped onto the floor. Papa’s ass blasted the entire council faster than they could swing their primitive swords. He escaped through the back door and snuck down the town’s alleyways, but a group of rogue bandits ambushed him before he could reach the main gates.
Smurf code dictates to leave no survivors once civilians join the fight. Papa adjusted his ass laser to a setting that read “NUCLEAR” and launched a missile that leveled every structure in town, eradicated the farmland, and incinerated every man, woman and child to dust.
He dropped to his knees when he returned back to Mushroom Hall. His exposed brain wiggled like gelatin. Encephalitic fluid spilled onto the floor.
“Gentleman,” he said, “a treaty has been reached. There is now to be peace.”