I have touched forepaws with the Messengers of the Dark Gods, and welcomed them in to sup upon anger's meat:
We smoked complex polyhedral cigars, freshly smuggled from Hilberta, and then exchanged unpleasantries, kissed the devil's arse, hugged and parted. Now I have incomplete wisdom and fleas and I'm happier than Hyde in a Husqvarna factory.
The doors of my Church are always open. Tithe the Messenger and give the rest to me, because possession is nine tenths of my law, and exorcism 100% guaranteed. Come on in; feel faaabulous.
Ahhh, men ~sigh~
High Gibbonate