. . .

I am horribly mutated

I have become an inhuman twisted monstrosity. A mockery of humanity. A ghastly wretched beast fit only to be shunned.

Now all I have to do is hope that it comes with some sort of disturbed power that I can use to oppress the world of the living. Maybe an army of fellow deviants. I will be their grotesque king and god. Soon, very soon, the surface world shall pay for the way it treated me. And the streets will run red with Santas!

It's a Tick line. If you don't get it, just move on.

I rambled at you. The least you could do is have the common courtesy to ramble back. I'm bored out here. I have nothing to do, if you count nothing as meaning "many things that I should really be doing but am avoiding".

I do have ice cream. I mustn't forget this.

And the hat.