Unspeakable evil at LBHQ, and some Hallo-whining
My Fellow Inebriates,
LBHQ is overrun with kids. It smells like pumpkin guts. For some reason there is NO beer in the house. I feel almost as bad as the recent owner of this arm.
But there are far scarier things going on at LBHQ. Remember my precious Canadian Cream?
It’s been in the fridge for eleven months. No one drinks it. And no one lets me drink it! And today, my mum wanted to shove a pumpkin pie in the fridge, and guess what was in the way?
My mother is evil.