My face is to be chopped open and the rank tumours within hacked out.
One supposes that one will spend some few days after confined to the old wánking chariot.
Today feels oddly like the last day at work before a holiday.
Well good luck. What you will get to hide your initial gross disfigurement is won of these:
Attachment 1130
'Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing
But different than the day before'
'Met a dwarf that was no good, dressed like Little Red Riding Hood'
'Now you're unemployed, all non-void
Walkin' round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd'