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I have made an offering of two petrified rats at Sparkle Common Board.
Thirteen more Peep-squeak... Thirteen more. And you better be ready or the
terrors we are going to unleash... The shrieks... The cries... Desperate
wailings.
Our cook at the monastery has been cooling the broth for the last three days.
You heard me right. Cold broth. With sogging veggies.
When you think about it, it does have a consistenty of a running jelly by
now... like an ectoplasm one might say.
You wouldn't like to be dipped, just a little bit, in a fat, slimey, smelly
ectoplasmatic broth now, would you?
Look down and see pale, sogging carrots, suspended in your ethereal "body".
Thicker snots of jelly surrounding cabbage leaves that go muddy-green by now.
Well, for the sake of both of us, you shall hope the snots are jellied broth.
Thirteen more rats Peep-squeak... Thirteen more rats.
Tick toc, goes the clock.
T.
Ps. Pass the word to that... whats his name...Goth-bro... the one who pens your
notes. There's enough cold broth at the monastery for his skeletal-self as
well. He's been looking of thin lately. Years in Melkor's servitude seem to
take its toll. And a good broth needs a bone.
Pass the word Peep-squeak.