Fate's Power Animal
Ensconced meanwhile on all sides up the walls amassed a seismic epic fuckton of cultural memorabilia. Oversized indigenous masks carved from rare redwoods slung up beside deactivated German lugers and grenades of every issue. Microphones, pygmy skulls, framed tattooed pig skins, and shells of bass guitars that looked burnt. Lemmy is the high prince of a really metal tiki bar.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.