Please, crazy lady, stop stalking me and my fellow mass attendants. When I stop being busy I am going to throw an enchantment at you during black moon night and your face will turn into a rat. Twice. And your body will turn into what it really is was and will be, a foetid engravement of a reflection of a putrefied soul upon the damned souls of people the same as you. Your 12 cats will howl at the moon while your hippopotamus figure starts to take shape. Your dreams will be empty like the sahara. No water shall be found. No Gods shall lay you a hand. You will work on a Pyramid for a thousand years with skeletons as companions. Doom metal will be heard all day long, as well as the nights. You will be forced to learn how to play D&D and you will never will get to play the role of Dungeon Master. Your parents will only will be able to send you care packages with bananas to you. Your currency will be pieces of crow bones and if you're lucky a complete reptilian dried tales. You wont be able to enter wet t-shirt contests. You'll be forging a Pyramid day and night for somebody else. A Pyramid built by the undead and the braindead.
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