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I see through your terrible grammar and retake

My Hill

I fish-slap everyone else off of My Hill.

I have Ichthyophobia. I will leave you on

Your Hill.

I don't.

I see your fish slap and raise you a sharknado on


My hill.

I hop in my tomb and ride out the storm on My Hill.

I seal you in your tomb and irrigate the land with holy water (just in case) on


My hill.

I'm in for the long haul beneath My Hill.

I pause my victory dance to listen to what sounds like someone banging on an anvil beneath


My (?) hill.

Listen closer, you hear contented snoring beneath My Hill.

As promised, peace and security reign when chaos is triumphant upon


My hill.

The chaos troops have all been converted to zombies under my control. No wonder it's quiet on My Hill.

I WILL BURN THE ZOMBIE HERETICS!! NO-ONE IS SAFE, BE THEY PUMPKIN, HUMAN OR GOLDEN HAIRED PRESIDENT, ON



MY HILL!!

The smell of burning rotten pumpkins and flesh drives you from the hallowed grounds of My Hill.

I wait for the fires to burn themselves out and casually stride to the top of


My hill.

The fires have weakened the structure of the roof supports and you fall through into the catacombs beneath My Hill.

I set the catacombs on fire. This is

My Hill, don't tell me what to do.

I put out the fires, take out an old flashlight, and see what lies beneath


My hill.

You see, and now you know, what lies beneath My Hill!
BWA-HA-HA-HA!

I see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight.
I slowly back away on


My hill.

It is not dead, which may eternal lie. With strange aeons, even death may die. On My Hill.

I awaken Eddie and run to the hills from

My hill.

I cover everyone in eggs and while you are cleaning yourself off I kill you

My hill

Continental breakfast on My Hill.

It's always easier to take a hill after a good breakfast.




My hill.

You're walking on eggshells on My Hill.

I'm married. I'm used to it on




My hill.

I can't argue with that on My Hill.

I stand amidst the tattered and fallen banners of my enemies. Their bodies lie broken and scattered across the battlefield like dead leaves blown by the wind. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks.
All is quiet upon



My hill.

With leaves on the ground and the call of the baying hound, Halloween draws near once again on My Hill.

And, after holding the Hill against all comers for over a year, I declare myself eternal champion of The Hill.