DAWN OF THE THIRD DAY
...
Well, the victims decided to bore me.
No person to appease... Meanies.
No one has been lynched.
Silly humans.
HOWEVER.
Mu har har.
At least my threxes give me something to do to you all.
I mean... At least they can do that, right?
So, this young person was a little bit too frisky for my tastes. I mean, how many do you eat? Like, you ate the entire pub! THE ENTIRE PUB! I put work into that, you incoherent neanderthal!
Baby dragons may not understand humans because humans want to not be eaten but are made out of tasty, lovely flesh, but THIS IS A PUB. IT'S MADE OUT BRICKS. THERE IS NO TASTE IN BRICKS. THE PUB DOES NOT TASTE NICE, WHICH IS WHY IT DOESN'T WANT TO BE EATEN.
...
This person had to pay. For all of his crimes.
The last time anyone saw her, he was munching on a few bricks, to put together a new pub... I mean, really. These people want thier pub. It's the third-least-miserable thing around here! ... I decided, as the holiest, most pious paladin, the defender of the meek that I am, to make everyone happy... Heheheh.
With a swish of my... Erm... Showerhead, I corrupted all of the pub's entire contents - all of its walls, bricks, tables, drinks, small children, and pool table into a shower of some of the most gorgeous tasting beer to ever hit anyone's tongue. The victims had a good rave, but something was off...
What? You don't know? Seriously, I'm so predictable. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR NOT KNOWING WHAT I'M ABOUT TO DO.
... nothing.
After all, our hated target was allergic to nuts. This beer was Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout.
He choked and choked, and meanwhile, everyone else questioned whether they should pee on him. The toilet facilities weren't working as intended... I'll fix that tomorrow.
Defying me is a ballsy move.
Dawn to Dusk, a Vanilla Victim, has been appeased via Threx Nightkill.
Next twilight at Tuesday, March 3rd, 6 PM GMT.
You have tax evasion notices.
