Behold, ye bodkins, cardboard-replica-Medieval-clock-face-man. Etched into the face beneath the clock are the names of all the previous forum contests I lost. Anyhow, here's how it all came about. I didn't know Obscurus Lupa was a girl. And she even looks pretty. However, I had been encountered a gang of lungfish in younger years, and they were nigh ready to spawn. Alas! they had lost their mates. That's when the lungfish gangraped. That is, gang-raped, not gan-graped. The clock comes later. The lungfish gangraped. There are only a handful of ways to get over a rape. In fact, four. Four is the number of knuckles on one of my hands, unless you consider the thumb knuckle--I don't. With these knuckles, I pounded the lungs out of some lungfish; paid 'em a visit with my four friends. Fact: lungfish have more junk DNA than we do. If you've heard of trout-ticklers, I was a lungfish-puncher. That's one way. The others are wizards, prayer, and forgiveness of yourself, because you always have to remember that you're the one that's the victim and not the lungfishes. While engaged in anti-lungfish behavior, I came across a carnival. I told them something I found interesting. Well, I told them lungfishes were 'pieces of shit' and that lead me to tell them this. That if something is 'ass' it's bad, and if it's a 'piece of shit' it's bad. But if it's 'the shit' it's good, and if it's a 'piece of ass,' that's really good. So it's inverted for those words--the good-bad valuation, I mean. A piece of ass is the shit. Some gypsies--not Roma, but real traveling charlatans, because not all gypsies are Roma--put this clock on my head. Then Mighty Zeus, by which I mean lightning, welded it to me 'ead. This was a punishment for offending his ears with my song to Lord Icecream:
Ooo Don't you melt before I say goodbye,
I'm melting for you as I cry,
Uh baby, I don't know what to do,
The freezer's too cold for you.
That's how it is.