I cough cheap linoleum perversions into this retail crypt. The webs dissolve, speedily!
Flat phallus clocks sponge up the conversations of the clerics below. They're laminated by their own aerosolized saliva. I don't know how that happens.
The clerics collect their wages from the radio administration, enough for a humble meal of celery lint and cabbage rolls. My curse, apparently botched, is forgotten.