If you go deep into the forest, you might find a man playing a flute. He can play tunes sweet enough to make computers feel compassion, and if he turns it up a notch, it’s like syrup encasing your ears before it claims the rest of your body in a large sticky ball. He can also turn it the other way and let the notes jab from every direction and produce a bitter taste of dissatisfaction on your tongue. I have seen a few people cry tears of happiness when they heard him, but no matter what he chooses to play, remember that the breath behind the music is rotten.
So bring earplugs.
Widdershins
/ December 8, 2014Pan has bad breath? 🙂
W. R. Woolf
/ December 9, 2014Or he’s just rotten all the way through :p