Fan Fiction Predicted That Slightly Unhinged Watery Overlord Cthulu Liked To Talk About How Much Music Meant To Him Even Though Everyone Was Bored. Today's Truth Missile of Truth missiling away truthfully in a missiley way, cutting through the shyte spectrum towards your pointless head-hole is this:  OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! Said God, in an uncharacteristic bout of existential confusion. A Lovely Story About How Devout Practitioner Of Virtual Enragement And Bearded Ankle Swinging Hipster Trod On So Many Ants She Became Institutionalised. Eggs only last a very short time and as all good heron folk know well, short time divided by infinity = 0. So eggs probably don't exist. Literally nobody in the room knew of what he spake, but it felt so right at the time, so real, that I, along with all the other brushmen applauded our hands right off. <br><br>