The tales of Fortwind Multsplex

A MONOLOGUE OF RED HORACES


"Whatever you do don't pester the men from up the stairs, they're not good people, their games not fair, it's just not cricket! They gather around the Mighty Spenchforth and wail at it with unprecedented anger... one of these days they'll dislocate their hexagons and then they'll be done for."

"The time is S32:kjae&, so we must go to work. Block city waits for no man and I can't lose my job at this time of year, not when it's so cold and the rent is sky rocketing. £453.27 in three penny bits."

"Ah, I can't seem to find a job, what is it you do? Do you make?"

"Why yes, yes I do make. Split ring comutators to be precise. I've crafted more than 1337 of them now."

"How interesting. I am inclined to stare at your prostate now."

"Don't stare to hard or the light from my nasal will rupture your tendancies and air your pomposities."

"Cigarette?"

"Quite."