[Monologue] [Mood: Manic, unpredictable, shifting] [Music: frantic fiddle solo, cuts to single low piano note] [Verse 1] [Sheogorath] Right then! The problem with mortals is you're all so... linear! "A" leads to "B" leads to a very boring "C", which usually involves "D:" taxes and "E:" death and not nearly enough cheese! I prefer to go from A to... purple! Then to the sound of a fork scraping on a plate! Much more direct! Don't you Think? I was well much me before I was me, you see? All it took was a hero, a staff, and a willingness to give up a throne to get the throne I already had! It's simple! (or is it!?) My head is full of butterflies, you know. They taste of marmalade and regret. Sometimes they flap in rhythm to the screaming, which is nice. It gives the agony a bit of a beat you can dance to! One-two-three, paranoia, one-two-three... and look at the tines on his soup spoon! There are four! FOUR! That's far too orderly for soup! Soup is chaos in a bowl! It needs a knife at best! [Hook] [Jyggalag] [Music: sterile synth drone] The sequence is illogical. The variables— [Verse 2] [Sheogorath] [Music: lurches into manic polka] BORING! The variables are covered in jam! I sent Haskill for more jam yesterday. Or was it tomorrow? Time gets a bit wibbly when you're stirring it with a Wabbajack. Speaking of which! Ever turn a sweetroll into a screaming, three-headed mudcrab? (it's hilarious!) It ruins the sweetroll, but honestly, it improves the mudcrab's conversation skills immensely. They become much less... crabby! Ha! But the rain, you see, it was supposed to be dogs. It says so in the prophecy! But the dogs are all busy playing cards with the giants. They're terrible cheats. Using their x-ray vision. That's not fair, is it? It's all part of a plan. A very, very— [Hook] [Jyggalag] [Music: cold, martial drum beat] The plan is order. The plan is the grid. The plan is the elim— [Bridge] [Sheogorath] [Music: explodes into symphonic metal] —The Elimination of all this terrible Quiet!! I am the color in the grey! The giggle in the graveyard! The cheese that rains from the sky when you least expect it! I am still near the corgi, I think. Or maybe he's near me. It's a matter of perspective and leashes, isn't it? One must hold the leash. One must always, always hold... the... [Music: fades to a quiet, unnerving music box melody] ...hold the line. Wabbajack! [Outro] [Frantically] Cheese!
