There he goes- the Goblin king- or perhaps I shouldn’t credit him so? But I’ve run short on metaphor as I’ve named the beast as many times. He troubles me, this manly demon and will not abate. He walks these halls as if they belong to him but only one man may lay legal claim here and You are not him , good sir. No, you are not him. You think yourself slick, sneaking about shadows, hiding behind your sicky sweet smile. Offering the appealing fruit of friendship- how shall I tell friend from foe? From your cubby hole, tucked around some corner, yet always watching, walking the grounds, inspecting all, an overlord with worn-out and weary soles- snatching up babes in their sleep or maybe, more realistically, just arguing with brick walls as you like to do. What’s that I smell? A fierce scent that rides the wind- the poison that pours from a broken man. Careful, don’t breathe it in! Or perhaps merely the bog of eternal stench. They’ll be no bargain had here, sir. No quid pro quo of my ...
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