It was a cold Autumn morning, but the 'gurgling' in Balrog's stomach had become very nearly unbearable and he knew that unless he paid visit to the small wooden hut at the bottom of the garden there would soon be more in his pajamas than just him!! So slipping on his boots and picking up a copy of the Goblin Gazzette, he made his way down the path towards the waiting door. Just then a small thought flitted across his mind but he dismissed it lightly and thought to himself... "The little sods can lock the door if they want, as long as I can park my bum on the throne first!! Would everything come out all right? Or would shorts need to be shed!
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