Space Station: HODD SUBTLE: S.S.H.S
HODD Haven's Ordered Daily Delivered.
The Warlock Knave with his Black Lotto pirates and brigands were after all the Intergalactic Forces! Dark, savage, snide, imperial guttersnipes, the unaverage Warlocks – and their evil imp vizier of the Sinister Still Skin Tribes had popped up like PUS! Was Pus to blame? Quite possibly! Boil and bubble was in sick trouble and the ill imp – an evil, psychotic, cannon ball, crowning in entitled, disaster was staked!
The racketeers’ messes causing trafficking problems . . . was deriving illicit pleasures in defacing the REST – by his perverted sacrileges – the sour demon scoured across sweet Nature’s heavenly smiles!
He wore a wide, pointed Foul’s grin and like him, all his mates sported the same. On both sides of his mouth – the poisoned Infernal’s wide jaws gaped opened and he stared. And in the ugly gang’s grappling claws, craftily hidden away – they carried tiny, poisoned pricks in their claws – and carried killing, cunningly crafted silver dirks. Pin pricked and darted they fatally stunned prey into a torture–capture and deprivation of the mind so evil, the struck creature sought only piteous oblivion! Strong minds would break, CRACK open like a Valley of Treasures opening wide to LOOT.