and you shall have to park far far away and lug many recepticles of grout over much distance while the tortured cries of the tormented doth chide you to distraction and the impish children of the fallen doth 'want to go home' for they be 'bored'
YOU DO NOT SPEAK OF THIS NOW. DO NOT. STOP. NO YOU DO NOT.
(gronkpan@vomitinglarry.bsky.social,
Mon 28 May 2007, 11:56,
archived)
and yay, though the bank holiday it be
shine not doth the sun down upon ye, and no light nor sustinance shall ease thy load, burdened as it is by the forgetfullness of the grouting implements which require ye to run once more the gauntlet of B&Q and the mirthless assistance harpies who doth scratch and wail and chatter incessantly about your past indispcrepancies and lies, heaped high upon you by your failings in the eys of The Lord. And yay, once you have crashed hard the forlourn boat of your trolley upon the jagged cliffs of the checkout and battled the stange things you find there, no sollace shall you receive as you are sent whence to Ikea, for no reason at all, to wander incessantly with the zombifeid remains of long forgotten friends and loved ones... until the end of time. Amen.