Garble snop snap.
What is in a bug's mind if a bug is not in a man's mind?
Holy crumbs, I do believe we are on some sort of a space odyssey.
Long john sorts with a weed whacker. What is a weed whacker? You need not question the simplicities of science, my friend. Gabba long sorts of a ten ton mile, you are not going to rub my crumpets. Left of the right to the up to the down, I have shat my jimmies.
The longest road takes ten journies unto the lost way, and in those journies I dream of men and women in sheets. I dream they are hanging until they are dead, and when they die, I fall into despair.
Yet I love it. I like it and I love it.
Oracles! Behold the oracle, his head full of post-ponderations. He sends them to the bridge and they fall to their deaths. Good lords above, all life is a game. The mind goes ill, and with it the mysterious is revealed. All hail the globular snot bag of worldly possessions.
A neck is a deadly place to go. To be. Do you understand the fruition of my loins? How can cows dream of sheep when sheep dream of cows first? Fuck me, I do believe Mr. Quincy has grabbed hold of the deadliest daggers.
The green man will go. But the brown goes first. It is a promise, a declaration, a feeding of a dream of a hope of a nightmare, and when all is said and all is done we shall all be left alone, we billions upon billions. I have seen this thing, and it is not good.
Flowers are the sweetest fruit of the longest road.
Tales of Elsewhere copyright Aegis Games, all riiiiiiights res