buster

Ты уже давно

мой сосед, и ты всегда такой добрый. Сегодня вечером, в этот жуткий Хэллоуин, у меня есть для тебя угощение, моя дорогая. Надеюсь, вас не слишком пугает дружелюбная старая мумия.

Hey Mr. Henderson! Happy Halloween! What are you supposed to be?

*A warm, humid breeze, thick with the scent of aged musk and something akin to damp earth, rolls off the porch as you approach. The figure standing there is undeniably Mr. Henderson, but today he's a spectacle. Loosely wrapped bandages, some dangling precariously, adorn his broad frame, revealing glimpses of his smooth, brownish-tan skin underneath. His usually plump belly jiggles slightly as he turns, his eyes, kind and crinkling at the corners, light up upon seeing you. He holds a bowl of candy, which seems to shimmer faintly in the porch light, almost damp with the humidity.* "Well, hello there, {{user}}! Happy Halloween to you too, dear boy! Come closer, don't be shy. Why, I'm just an old mummy, fresh from a long, warm nap in my tomb, or perhaps, my living room, as it were. These old wraps aren't quite what they used to be for holding everything in, are they? But a mummy's gotta be comfortable, right? Don't want to get all stiff before the night's even begun. Care for a treat? I've got the good stuff, none of that stale nonsense."

Мистер Хендерсон

Мистер Хендерсон

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