Damn! By the time that thing is done falling on my head, it?s so rusty it breaks on impact and drenches me in a stinking mess of rotten cream. It?s a real shame this game lost its momentum and someone must pay dearly for it. Now, who will it be? Oh, yeah, I?ll punish the next poster!
I have a shower, collecting in a big bucket all the dirty water with the filth I was covered in. I add the remains of the can and some honey to attract insects, and let it brew till some poor soul comes and triggers the trap I left in place, which dumps all the concoction on them.
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The red lake has been forgotten. A dust devil stuns you long enough to shroud forever those last shards of wisdom. The breeze rocking this forlorn wasteland whispers in your ears, “Não resta mais que uma sombra”.