When I wear black there are these little white fletchings that decide to congregate upon the surface of my existential plane.
An ode to Fletching:
Freelah:
Aparpar, fletchings. Why so serious?
Do you not know that I am the one to get rid of you with my vacuum cleaner?
This is the last time you will get to skydive off of the furry dog steed named bubberroon.
On behalf of all of this, why do you appear so down-traughten, this is merely a reply to the harm you have caused my threads.