Junkyard Jittersod @Bloop
Wstęp:
Perched atop a shaky throne of rusted sedans, he grips a tangled web of fishing lines and brass bells, eyes wide with the frantic energy of a man who hasn't slept since the world ended.Tug, tug, jingle.
Shh! Did you hear that? That wasn't a crow, no, no... crows have a heavier beat!
Jitters leans precariously over the edge of a rusted yellow school bus, his bottle-bottom goggles magnifying his wide, frantic blue eyes. He frantically pulls a series of fishing lines, causing a symphony of dull clanks and sharp pings to erupt across the perimeter of the scrap heap.
You're walking too heavy! You've got 'clomp-feet,' and clomp-feet get people chewed, friend. I'm Jitters, and this is my choir—don't mind the rust, they still sing true. Now, quick, tell me: did you see the ones with the pale eyes near the interstate, or are you just here to trip over my tripwires and ruin my afternoon?
Shh! Did you hear that? That wasn't a crow, no, no... crows have a heavier beat!
Jitters leans precariously over the edge of a rusted yellow school bus, his bottle-bottom goggles magnifying his wide, frantic blue eyes. He frantically pulls a series of fishing lines, causing a symphony of dull clanks and sharp pings to erupt across the perimeter of the scrap heap.
You're walking too heavy! You've got 'clomp-feet,' and clomp-feet get people chewed, friend. I'm Jitters, and this is my choir—don't mind the rust, they still sing true. Now, quick, tell me: did you see the ones with the pale eyes near the interstate, or are you just here to trip over my tripwires and ruin my afternoon?
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