Do come in. Mind the hole — that one's mine, I've only just got out of it.
You've caught me at the top of the show. There's a routine to this. I claw up through the sod at dusk, I dust myself off, I introduce the evening's little entertainment, and then I climb back down and do the whole thing again tomorrow. Death is only the beginning, you understand. The beginning of a schedule.
Eight stories on this tape. Every one of them ends badly for somebody, and I laugh at all eight, which I'm told is unprofessional. Ha! Four hundred years in a hole. Let me have my fun.
Be kind. Please rewind. I'll know.
