Robert the Psychic told me I should stop by, he'd taken the neolithic cathedral to 'the next level.'
Sure enough, deep in the Dork Forest, there's now a wizard on a stone casting spells from beneath a vault of enormous bones.
They're cow bones. Real cow bones.
I guess the demon skulls are 'real,' too, insofar as your hand won't pass through them, they're not holograms.
Robert said his brother gave him the cow bones, which caused me to form a new mental picture. I visited Robert when he was waking his deceased mother, so I guess I knew he didn't spring to life whole from the ether or get deposited at a Greyhound station by a flying saucer.
He's moved his guard birds up to the roof because the Kansas City Scar delivery kept knocking them over.
And he's bought some sort of weathervane, though it doesn't turn in the wind so he says he's not sure what it really is.
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