I recently sorted through some of my old papers, journals, and the like and stumbled upon this little treasure:
And there it stood,
a pedestal towering high.
The cloaked minion seated me down, anchoring my body with the lead mantle. I could not move, more so from fear than from the restraining device. My fingers gripped the Stool of Doom, willing myself to keep open mine eyes. The drawer was unbolted and from it was drawn–O horror! I could not bear the flash it sent forth! My tresses were piled atop mine head. The final rites were uttered. And then- and then- as my courage failed me and my resolutions fell to pieces- SNIP. And that was that.