HEED!

Hark ye mortals and remember well the prophecies of Doom. Three times the Welsh will rise to enslave one third of humanity and take their rightful place on the back of the giant gryphon. Three times the heads of the sacred moles shall pop up from the ancient deeps beyond all memory and reckoning. Behold now verily the Tortoise of Eternity. Feel ye the stings of the nervous wasps. Follow closely the opened seals and the black sea lions, lest ye be cast sobbing into the quickening pools of fertile yeast.

A deepening shadow moves in from the north. Ever southward comes the sexy bison on hooves of clover and starch. Woe is to ye who say ye nothing when ye shall see ye-self in the cracked mirrors of yesteryear, ye fools and farmyard hybrids of the field. Half human are ye with the lower torsos of angry salmon. When the purple thunder clashes in uproar against the Tree of Fear only the minor goblins will ever know the secret locations of their own moth-infested tombs within the spiralling labyrinths beyond the marshes in the mists of time immemorial.

That bitter knowledge cast out from the minds of petrified dungeon-minions will be the final signal to the Lighthouse of Doom to unleash the greenish Beam of Tempests upon the cowering Earth! And then the wastes from the belly of the Crimson Hippo will collide verily with the rotating blades of the Windmill of Agony.

Ye have all been warned. OK? So be good in future.




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