He spent all day cosying up to the new boss, hoping for a plum assignment.
That old dog just doesn't do much anymore; he mostly masticates and verminates.
I was in the Esoteric Order of Dagon, which is an amateur press association dedicated to Lovecraft and weird fiction.
[…] the blazing luminescence spilling from oven doors and chinks in the huge circular furnace that rose, shivering and roaring, spectred with harsh steam, brown smoke, into the macroscian iron rafters and beams of soot and fire-seared dark.
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