Review Summary: The wonk merchant brings good tidings
Kin of the Insidious Bending Slam and the 7 Phantasms of Hurdles’ Howl, The Great Unclean Skronk bares forth. Your eyes water and your vision hurls, a dizzying spectacle bursting, dazzling in hung time. Your bowels distend and gyrate, a mechanical groove of coils wetly slapping your outer insides. Hysterical shrieking fills the air, and it is only later you realise it was coming from you. The Great Unclean Skronk is displeased. You have not been skronking so much in your daily prayers as perhaps you should. Its maw opens, freeing the cacophony of tapping discord it calls a voice. Baulking, purge fluid pours down your legs and dully sounds on granite slab. The Great Unclean Skronk sees this and is pleased. You have made yourself an animal. You have felt both the grooving and rising hysteria, and bared witness to shrieking spectres. Your eyes roll back in skronktacy, skronking skronkwise skronkily, so skronketh the skronker that skronks in skronklets, skronktime begetting skronktitude, skronktalic, skronkified,
