Where all the best old threads are locked away in perpetual undeath, shambling about and gasping for brains. (We can't shoot them in the head... we just can't!)
(shouting from the shadows) holy crispy crap ona biscut....Moonrise you won't let that got will you.....said before an' say it again...i...won't...get...naked!!!
{*whisper*You know you wanted to see Ser naked.*whisper*}