OUT ON THE DUNGEON FLOOR

Message to the dungeonmaster: this morning on the dungeon floor your torturers are finally busying themselves with restocking the barrows and baskets of their stalls with fresh new miseries, and not before time, and it's wonderful, after so many nights of relentless torture to see novel diversions provided for us, having grown so tired of the rack, the wheel, the spikes, the bull, the fire, the other quotidian and humdrum torments, the burning, the flaying, the scraping, the stretching, the pulling, the just waiting, and so on, the smoke, the scabs, the pus-filled blisters, which were all born fearsome in our perception but are now dreary, and now as your sack-hooded deputy calls us down from the wall where we are hanging like rags we are filled with hope, not to be exempted from screaming, not even for others to be exempted from screaming, but to be captivated by the ingenuity of your brilliant new harnesses and iron crucibles while we scream, scream, scream.