|The Freakin' Green** Elf Shorts bask in the sun,|
across the garden from...
|...a vista in which gruelling hard labour is soon to become apparent.|
|The Father of the Host starts up the |
|...and leaves his|
to feed the cantankerous clattering clank
(Hmmm... Looking a bit gaunt, there - Must remember to eat this week).
|The Host grabs the dozing 'Shorts (Eww - without putting rubber gloves on first)...|
|...and drops them into the 'mixer.|
|They struggle to escape, but the Host pushes them back with a shovel.|
|The tainted concrete is used to create the base for a patio...|
|...where The 'Shorts will be entombed for eternity. Buried alive . . . Buried alive...|
* Skillz pointed out to me that the word 'patio' is pronounced 'pat-ee-oh', which just seems vulgar, so I've spelled it phonetically.
** OK, so they're grey...
P.S. I'll announce the winner of the Recipe For Disaster challenge in a couple of days - unless no one else leaves a recipe, it'll be SID.