Gothiness: 6 Sweatiness:5
"Goodness dear, this garden's getting messy! Look at those Azalias, they're running wild."
"Like the torment in my soul, they grow through every space. Binding my waking thoughts with the dark matter of their misery, strangling the young shoots of my happiness in the tangleweed of despair. I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."
"Yes dear. Oooh, is that the kettle boiling?"
