The high-schoolers have come. Yes, we were fairly warned, but they came like locusts, decending upon the Lloydholme like a plague. There is techno pounding through the floor, with occassionally varied thumping. Cell phones are ringing and girls are screaming and boys are screaming and there is much, much, chocolate.
And this is beyond the chocolate threshold – past the point where chocolate is an orgasmic substance of sublime sugary potency, and is instead… goo. Nasty brown goo which you can’t even stand to smell.
Oh God. Thank goodness my car is okay again.
