The night is spent by eager children banding together with their buckets and bags, reveling in gyrations of spooky and fancy. Wide-eyed with glee, they barter the spoils of their plunder, jeering and gloating in turn.
Rudy slumps into the sofa, cradling his belly and faintly moaning a dirge of woe and regret. Eruptions of froth and bile paint themselves into swirling calligraphies across the floor, a congealing satire punctuated by iridescent cellophane and crumpled foil wrappers. The rank odor articulates and reinforces the cryptic cacophony of the sugary slurry.
“Here is a trick for your treats. Regards, your Pancreas”.
Halloween Regret
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- Member
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Re: Halloween Regret
When I read the last two words, I heard Weird Al in what arguably passes as my brain.
It is never a good sign when your organs stop giving subtle reprimands.
It is never a good sign when your organs stop giving subtle reprimands.
iF I waSn’T sO bacKwardS, i’D bE anoNymouS.