The customer is not right.
There is something very wrong with the customer.
When it breathes, the bladders on its hind fill with viscous puss as they expand and retract.
The customer looks into your eyes with dense nerve clusters on whipping, wriggling stalks.
A hollow choking voice echoes in your mind, gently tingling up from your spine as you stare deep into the space behind its wretched sockets.
Something is very wrong with the customer.
The customer is not right.








