Coincidence? The shitty sphincter of synchronicity? The felching faggot of fate? Who knows!
I was driving onto Grapes Hill, when I saw one of my Hades Ladies crossing the bridge as I drived under.
Now, babes on bridges trip-trapping along is all very well, but me being under the bridge at the same time... surely the cosmic inference here is that I'm some kind of hairyarse troll!
"Phwoar! Lookit you! I'd sure like to eat you!"
"Nah - eat me mate out instead. She's well up for a bit of the old oral"
or something.
Sure, I meet most trollish requirements - short, squat, ugly etc, but you don't find me lurking under flyovers gawking up strumpets skirts with a befanged lower gob, waiting for some woman to come along for a gobbling.
Ooooh, and me nails did turn into talons recently, till I trimmed 'em back.
Yikes! Metamorphosis! I'm slowly morphing into some lumbering denizen of the deep! Looks like I'd better up sticks and move to Great Y'ha-nthlei with the other web-fingered followers of Dagon. Or just move under the wooden bridge down Riverside Walk and be watched over by Shubb-Niggurath.
A thousand young indeed - bet he rakes it in on council benefits!
Black goat? Black gold, more like!
