Say what you speak

I could describe a true horror for you, you know. I have a face. Hotdog waffle... Thong... Who watches the watchers of the watchers of the watchers? Doesn't it? Or does it? Would you care to cite your sources? You will not be taken seriously until you cite your sources... But what about it is it, really, that they fear? There are bat'leths too silly to describe... Random string of utility muffin research kitchens and cheeseburgers with a large fries and a coke, plus a kids meal spawned by salad forks ablating US Navy aircraft carrier super hornets... Gork... Cake... Only then will you realize that all your fear was a rolled-up newspaper, a banana fly and a sad man in a bowler. Would you care to cite your sources? You will not be taken seriously until you cite your sources...

If I am a Nightmare, then tell me, what are you? By the way, I'll tell you that in Belgian Congo there's not a single person who tells the truth. They just lie all day long. Start at seven in the morning and keep at it until nightfall. So if I lie a little now and then, it's just because I've spent a little too much time in Belgian Congo. In what dark places do your minds reside, on what horrible secrets do you silently sit, raving, radiant, resilient... Mongoose... Steak dinner... Think of me fondly as you bury this axe deep in your foe's skull. Gleaming, gleaming, as the shadows stir, joy in the hunter, utter, unadulterated fear in the hunted? There is no ending here, no plot closure... no... Baseball bat...