(no subject)
*Enter a pervasive stench*
*Really. Imagine the worst possible smell you can imagine. Now up it by a factor of, like, threeve.*
*Said stench looks around, decides to hang out, settles in, looking like it's in for the long haul.*
*Enter, some time later, Foul Ole Ron.*
*looks around*
Buggrit! Millennium hand and shrimp!
Typist: Discworld's own Foul Ole Ron. I'm sorry if you never manage to get the scent out of your clothes. XD
*Really. Imagine the worst possible smell you can imagine. Now up it by a factor of, like, threeve.*
*Said stench looks around, decides to hang out, settles in, looking like it's in for the long haul.*
*Enter, some time later, Foul Ole Ron.*
*looks around*
Buggrit! Millennium hand and shrimp!
Typist: Discworld's own Foul Ole Ron. I'm sorry if you never manage to get the scent out of your clothes. XD