sp3ktr:
Stardate 204, the story reads like
breadcrumbs left by abandoned childred looking for the toys in the
attic, the ghost of Roger waters impales a lil' smokey on a plastic
cocktail sword and grins, the palace walls have fallen like the shittest
nostradamos quatrain. The smoke clears and our sweet ass saviour
emerges from the rubble to take us back in time