The wall.

The wall.
It did it's job, blocking intruders.
It sat at the door and its big flabby form obstructed all who wished to enter. "Urghh ummff. Something seems to be blocking the door. Let's try around back." said Mort
They trotted to the back of the building. "Same with this one," concluded Mort, after a bout of shoving against the portal failed to budge it. "Alright, bring out the RPG-7!"
Sam hastily brought his Monster Manual and 20-sided dice. Mort yelled, "Rocket Propelled Grenade not Role-Playing Game!" Another tentacle thrust out of the portal.
The tentacle is holding what I now know was a fifth dimension targeting mirror. Just then though I only saw a kumquat custard on a plate. I occurred to me maybe dessert could be fi
nished with a fleeting modicum of enjoyment before my tentacular acquaintance squeaked the final invocation that would collapse all existence. I mustered my sympathy and said,
"Everyone into the Creepy Tent!" and in we all went, just as All Existence collapsed. We huddled there, with the scary clowns in that bubble of Otherness until a new universe
Appeared almost a year later, carrying a package. The scary clowns opened it and threw the paper into the fire, outside the tent. The King of Comedy had sent them a book about
obese nuns on crack, naked, with tattoos of spiders and snakes across their breasts and buttocks, sitting on the back of Harley Davidson Hogs, and scared the scary clowns to death!

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