Entering the main sitting room area of the Dream House, the group noticed various portraits hanging on the wall. Little John sighed sadly as he beheld the picture of himself clad in a chef’s hat, wearing a white apron dusted with flour and stained variably with fruit fillings.
“Mates, I know that when you look upon me, you see nothing but a ‘orrible ghoul who wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into a chunk of rotting flesh,” he lamented.
“Well, as for me, I say, if the flesh suits, eat it,” Robin declared, eagerly ripping into the chunk of liver he was carrying.“If you are what you eat, you must consume a fairly constant supply of arse,” Ketil snapped. “Your chum here is baring his soul, and the only words which comes from your mouth is dumb and self-absorbed. Be at least respectful and enjoy your offal in peace.”
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