Hm. This had better work.
You're Spookylaisis, you haven't done so in a month. I didn't expect Zoidberg to break your current streak.
Hm. This had better work.
You're Spookylaisis, you haven't done so in a month. I didn't expect Zoidberg to break your current streak.
Are you praying? To God?
God is not here today, priest.
Man, I have to write this paper about Robert Frost by tomorrow. It only needs to be 300 words long but I'm stuck at like 200 and I can't think how to carry on.
I guess that this is the point where I just start bullshitting about poetic imagery.
These Great Old Ones were not composed altogether of flesh and blood. They had shape—for did not this star-fashioned image prove it?—but that shape was not made of matter. When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live. But although They no longer lived, They would never really die. They all lay in stone houses in Their great city of R'lyeh, preserved by the spells of mighty Cthulhu for a glorious resurrection when the stars and the earth might once more be ready for Them.
Symbolism is always the best way to take up space.
http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Mending_Wall
Meh. Definitely not one of the better things that Skelington has read.