Well, good evening sir,
I am Mr. Mostly-Dead,
And I'll be your nightmare tonight.
Welcome to the House of Dust,
I hope you will find something dreadful
That we can serve you.
Can I start you with something simple,
Maybe the inability to run
While being pursued by
An invisible horror,
Or an angry, jibbering nun?
Or maybe murdered by a loved one
Is more your taste.
We also have a lovely Hag
Who will sit on your chest,
And prevent you from breathing
Until it is almost too late,
Startling you awake to a vision
Of her dashing from your room.
What's that? None of those?
Well let me show you our menu.
It is packed with superb
Visions and terrors
Created by chef, just for you.
Now you may notice,
Our chef is a bit
Of a nightmare himself,
He is quite the ghastly fellow.
But he does his job well,
He's the best in the land,
We're proud to have him
Here in Limbo.
Now, back to the menu,
You simply must order something,
Ah, you say you've found something to your taste?
What's this? Flying,
Alone in the clouds,
Is the order you'd like to place?
Oh no sir,
You do not understand.
That one is not for you.
That is the childrens menu you're looking at,
Flying simply will not suffice.
Turn the page,
And gaze upon
The delights we have in store.
Gryphons that chase
And gnaw, and chew,
And hands that come up
Through the floor.
Floating ladies that chase,
And disturb the soul,
People you don't see
Who aren't really there,
But nevertheless, pursue.
I'd recommend
Starting out small,
Maybe a goblin to battle.
Then an appetizer
Of bone-men who laugh,
And cackle and shriek and rattle.
Then on to the main course,
We offer the finest,
In unpleasant psyche disruption.
Things with no faces
Devils and warlocks,
All sorts of agents of darkness.
Lastly, dessert.
Something special, I think.
You'll find this
Nowhere but here.
A special torment
We've made just for you,
An extremely tall man
Who smells of mothballs and moldy earth,
With the face of a bird,
With eyes the size of dinner plates,
A cowled cloak is his garb,
He stands in the shadows
While slowly rocking back and forth,
Claws extended,
Waiting for you to scream.
He can run so fast
You can't see him move,
He'll be on you quicker
Than you can blink.
And when he catches you
(Because catch you, he will)
He wraps you up in the shadows
That he's pulled along with him,
Wraps you up like a spider's dinner,
So tight you can't see anything.
Perhaps you'll wake up,
Or maybe you never will - difficult to say, really.
Ah, that will do you? Alright, so,
Come again, sir,
We would love to have you back
As soon as you can.
Say tomorrow night?
We'll be waiting for you!
