The pudgy bogman hefted the bludgeoning bad over his shoulder
And then the frog stampede ran him over.
Her laughter, as sore as my old dog’s bark, shrieks
Slam the melons with jugs and hammers obviously.
The more the store bores the more the store chores.
I shoved this heckin feller in a duffle bag.
Freakins let me gleam at Vladimir
The men with skull bones and little signs
I speak for someone at sleepy dens.
The horns sang out like “bægerklang.”
Am I a liar?
For Barrett I sit, attending to the eldritch horror.
Something about kraft mac and cheese
And then my own forsaken forsaker slits my neck.
In the midst of unimaginable pandemonium.
Crap.