Mike we were playing “Dog and Bear,” y’know, and Servo was chasing me? And I ran panicked over logs and through streams, maddened with primal terror, y’know? And I turned and raked my deadly claws against his howling snout, y’know? And I rose to my hind feet, towering, and still bellowing he came and I mewled and spewed gore from my wounds and snot from my flaring wild maw; and then we were locked like lovers; and then I was encurled by moiled, spotted hound bodies and my entrails were hanging out; and I tried a savage feral roar but alas my force was spent and I died.
Could you stick my entrails back in, Mike?