Many moons ago, well, several moons ago, there lived a man. Actually,
there have lived assorted men during most, if not all moons of recent
memory, but this was a special man and thus a special moon. A man named
Squeebles. Though, this name was not the source of his specialness. Not
to say that Squeebles isn't a very special name indeed, it's just that
specialness does not transfer well from name to person. No, this man was
special for other reasons, including his freakishly large pinky toe,
freakishly small big toe, and center three toes in the reverse order by
proper size. In fact, one might say that his foot was backwards, but
that would probably imply that it faced the wrong way, which it did not.
So I'll stick to my original toe-based description.

In any case, Squeebles had a habit of using his amazing foot powers for
evil, at least, as much evil as can be summoned forth from a disfigured
extremity. Mostly he used it as an excuse to tread upon the toes of
local maidens while dancing, but once he punted a squirrel over a barn -
his deformity granted his punts a surprising amount of distance, as did
his penchant for distracting onlookers before hurling the
object-to-be-punted with all his might, and then claiming to have punted
it.

During one of the aforementioned moons, Squeebles's village was beset by
a rather surly troll woman who insisted on consuming large quantities of
free drinks from the local townsmen without becoming intoxicated enough
to later remove her shirt - a waste of good alcohol that simply could
not be tolerated in a town that was already pressed for easy ladies. One
fateful evening, Squeebles wandered into the bar with his defective foot
and amazing telepathic powers (powers which I probably should have
mentioned earlier, as they are the focus of this tale) and set about
courting this troublesome female. After meeting the the same
difficulties as his fellow lustful men, he employed said telepathic
powers, and with a focused stare and a snap of his fingers, the whole
tavern got a peek at the targets of their recent efforts.

The town was saved from near-certain sexual frustration, and ever since
we have celebrated Nomenonipopo day in the great Squeebles's honour.

This is the true story of Nomeonipopo Day, with a margin of error of
approximately the truth part.

-Tiax

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Miraman, in the year 438 AF.