Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
For everything, down to the scribbles.
At the traffic lights on red the boot of the car in front pops open: A giant insectoid monster climbs onto the hood of your car, rips off the roof and pulls your head off and eats it in front of your missus. Gives an enormous belch, pops a hand over its mouth, blushes with embarrassment. “ Oooooo excuse me!…manners….were you saving that for later?”