‘The blogger spun around in his chair and giggled insanely as he picked his nose and bayed at the moon. Others, close by, nodded and moved about their daily affairs. They understood the preference for insanity rather than face the inevitability of another weekend starting to close down. Another Monday looming like the gloom of a storm over the horizon demanding yet another another five days or workaday servitude. (Please insert a spine tingling shiver here.)
The Blogger did not care anymore he could feel another giggle creeping up his larynx and he would just have to let it escape. If only he had an echo chamber to add demonic dimension to his voice it would make him feel so much better. Plus baying at the moon would be deliriously more effective. Feck! the wolves and their mastery over such pastimes. The day, or should I say, nights will come when baleful baling will curdle the blood stiffen the sinews and the whispers will rattle around the camp fire “Wicks is mad again.” “Isn’t he always?” the expected response.