Terastrial

AtlasSniperman The sheep was kneeling down, head against the surface, muttering under his breath as if desperately begging that this might work. As he slowly pulled away, he stared at his own dark reflection; a mirror of himself almost black in it’s background and the splattering of colour across his wool dull and lifeless. “Come on, damn you.” He growled, bringing his hand down hard on the top of the television. “Why won’t you work?” Like many times before, the Flaaffy was alone in the lounge, having spent twenty minutes already slapping the inoperative television to try and make it respond. “Piece