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Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: The singularly innocuous fowl did lurch unceasingly across the interminable asphalt pathway into a realm so hideous that I can scarcely put credence to my own faltering observations, so singular in nature was the countenance of the phantasmagoric land into which the unsuspecting bird discovered itself lost, as a crumbling barque adrift on an ancient sea beaneath scabrous, emerald-litten clouds of malicious and unsavory intent, haloed by Olympian bolts of electricity floats wearily towards an unknown land. As the feathered biped stumbled exhaustedly towards the far side of the roadway, it froze in stark terror as around it, slimy mud oozed monumentally from the Hadean depths of the Earth and evil carvings appeared magically on stone pylons which thrust at hideous angles from the subterrene squelching mire, their hoary surfaces carved disgustingly into loathesome shapes which, upon viewing, drove the tenebrous chicken instantly mad so that, gibbering meaninglessly for the rest of its insane days, it was cruelly fastened, alone, with its own macabre visions of a Brobdingnagian nightmare; for the faces carven with such unquestionably evil intent upon the Promethean edifices had been those of giant, tentacled chickens!
Nope. Can't tell at all.
[Edit 8:04 am - Lest any of you Lovecraft fans think I don't enjoy the stories because I make fun of it here, you're wrong. I am enjoying them. But even a fan has to admit that he does love his adjectives, and he does have a tendency towards the overdramatic. :)]
A: The singularly innocuous fowl did lurch unceasingly across the interminable asphalt pathway into a realm so hideous that I can scarcely put credence to my own faltering observations, so singular in nature was the countenance of the phantasmagoric land into which the unsuspecting bird discovered itself lost, as a crumbling barque adrift on an ancient sea beaneath scabrous, emerald-litten clouds of malicious and unsavory intent, haloed by Olympian bolts of electricity floats wearily towards an unknown land. As the feathered biped stumbled exhaustedly towards the far side of the roadway, it froze in stark terror as around it, slimy mud oozed monumentally from the Hadean depths of the Earth and evil carvings appeared magically on stone pylons which thrust at hideous angles from the subterrene squelching mire, their hoary surfaces carved disgustingly into loathesome shapes which, upon viewing, drove the tenebrous chicken instantly mad so that, gibbering meaninglessly for the rest of its insane days, it was cruelly fastened, alone, with its own macabre visions of a Brobdingnagian nightmare; for the faces carven with such unquestionably evil intent upon the Promethean edifices had been those of giant, tentacled chickens!
Nope. Can't tell at all.
[Edit 8:04 am - Lest any of you Lovecraft fans think I don't enjoy the stories because I make fun of it here, you're wrong. I am enjoying them. But even a fan has to admit that he does love his adjectives, and he does have a tendency towards the overdramatic. :)]