andthistoomustpass wrote:Ah! It begins to make sense. The automated factory (after all no human could cope listening to ice scream all day) achieved sentience and is attempting to construct a body, terminator style, in order to take over the world and protect the poor ice. Think about it; the walls have ears, the curtains have eyes and the doors have knobs. It is only a matter of time before our sausage ice cream creating overlord takes over. The only reason it hasn't been able to yet is because the roof has shingles.
[size=85]But of course it makes sense. As well as possessing ears, eyes, er... knobs and shingles the sentient automated factory walks on legs (hens' legs to be specific) - looking uncannily like the uncanny abode of Baba Yaga, and struts pompously around the taiga with an air of self-important menace. Across the wild windswept wastes, the shrill insistent screaming of the ice can be heard like the wailing lament of the bean sidhe
, far and wide, as well as near and narrow, by wandering wayfarers, mad monks, forsaken maidens, forlorn lost souls, demented domovoi, double-glazing salesmen, Nova representatives, Vehojah's Witnesses and other itinerant denizens of those dark lands. Always on the move, always seeking... but never reaching.
Alas! Striking out for those far-away shores isn't quite the same as actually reaching them - as I have learnt to my eternal regret.
Time to strike out for the shores of sanity, boring as they are.
there wasn't a...