Line 30: |
Line 30: |
| All of a sudden, the sack slipped off the donkeys back and fell on one of the men, crushing him to death instantly. | | All of a sudden, the sack slipped off the donkeys back and fell on one of the men, crushing him to death instantly. |
| | | |
− | ____________________________________
| + | _____________________________ |
| | | |
| | | |
Line 49: |
Line 49: |
| A high-standing member of one of these factions, an Agassian saint named | | A high-standing member of one of these factions, an Agassian saint named |
| | | |
− | ----
| + | ____________________________ |
| | | |
| When asked about the millions of reports of anonymous gifts found beneath Yule Trees again this year, Kanundrum merely stated, "Heresay. I've only ever gotten Groklinite." | | When asked about the millions of reports of anonymous gifts found beneath Yule Trees again this year, Kanundrum merely stated, "Heresay. I've only ever gotten Groklinite." |
Line 57: |
Line 57: |
| | | |
| | | |
− | ---- | + | ____________________________ |
| + | |
| + | |
| + | When asked about the millions of reports of anonymous gifts found beneath Yule Trees again this year, Kanundrum merely stated, "Heresay. I've only ever gotten Groklinite." |
| + | |
| + | Despite his arguments, and the unfortunate noxious gas poisoning incident at the now-infamous Muletide Greetings Holiday Shop, people continued to fill department stores to the brim, trying to force their way into the outrageously long lines to have their children's pictures taken with the Father Yules which seemed to almost outnumber the customers. |
| | | |
| + | ____________________________ |
| | | |
| You reach to press the button again when a Wessonian Museum security guard rushes your way, tripping over an ottoman in the process. He picks himself up, straightens his uniform and ushers you out, explaining that this room is not open to the general public. You really don't want to bear the brunt (or should that be brant) of a whack from his heavy-looking flashlight, so you should probably leg it. Pronto. | | You reach to press the button again when a Wessonian Museum security guard rushes your way, tripping over an ottoman in the process. He picks himself up, straightens his uniform and ushers you out, explaining that this room is not open to the general public. You really don't want to bear the brunt (or should that be brant) of a whack from his heavy-looking flashlight, so you should probably leg it. Pronto. |