Hall-Of-Heads

Where do you guys keep the Haggis around here?

Thank you for the inclusion.

I concur with that Chan fellow. I and many other deviants are considering boycotting this journal. Its stanky and repeats on you like a three day old burrito with clogs on. Please right this wrong and write something fresh. That Chan fellow who I agree with and also just happens to be the subject of the above journal speaks wisely but also has a bit of a stink in his trousers!

Er, hello. I was just passing by and was quite surprised to see that the journal from July this year is still there! Come on man, write about something interesting like Bog Roll or something!

Thank you very much for request my picture!

So anyway, Douglas Frobisher from Accounts was hiding under his table because his boss, HP Sauck was in a worse mood than ever on account that he had been possessed by a Goumarithian Agle Parasite. Not only does this alter your way of thinking it also gives you tentacles with poisonous barbed things.

Douglas had a plan. He also had a fan and that was part of the plan. A fan plan. Douglas pulled open his drawer and removed the ounce of plutonium he had which was left over from THE BEST CHRISTMAS PARTY, LIKE, EVER, and quickly ignited it with his accountancy breath. He flung it up at the fan just as it positioned itself in direct sight of Mr Sauck. Mr Sauck flung his twelve tentacles up in the air as the flaming plutonium hit him right in the three faces and vaporised him and the entire eastern seaboard in moments.

Douglas got some award or other at the White House later that year but he also got a pretty steep invoice from the contractors.

Thank you very much for request!