Ah stout Stanley Beamish, I knew him Horatio;

by scarab @, Thursday, February 14, 2013, 00:23 (4089 days ago) @ MrPadraig08
edited by scarab, Thursday, February 14, 2013, 00:27

a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?

Oh wait, he's not dead? Did space mop into a broomstick make?

When downward cast from tether's ruin, lo! Stout Stanley rose again on eldritch wings and pwned death tyro's embrace.


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