I think someone got a little bit rambunctious, and someone else has to do some editing, because I’m cool. Are you cool? I guess not because I haven’t gotten any fucking emails today—yet.
BUT I FUCKING WELL FUCKING WILL, now… won’t I? Now if you shall excuse me, I’m gonna go trot back into my pocket universe, slam the door, and start playing ordering a shitload of those nine-inch nails off of Amazon.
UNDER HENRY CONSTRUCTION AT FULL FUCKING PUMP UP THE VOLUME—DANCE DANCE
(And with that, a flight of banshees takes the last plate of freshly-baked cookies and screeches, shrieks, and flaps their little flappycopters all the way back Home. Have fun storming The Castle!
Because… it took a miracle.) Please laugh, you diseased little shit.