The Statue hates this chair, because there is a thin snake on it that he wants to crush. Sometimes humans yell at heroes and say "you have destroyed my house," because they are too dumb to know about dangers, and because they are weird love way with objects.
The Statue might ask this costumed human something normal and heroic like "let me grab your rod with a violent force to make sure it's not a Strange Creature or a goat," and this crazy person would have great fury.
This person wasn't really a human, because the magic worked. I think it was the Satan, because his eyes were only black part, and because he was so angry, and because his bib had a picture of the Devil's giant fork.
The Statue's love woman has learned from his teachings. She knows objects could be concealing anything, and she thinks this lamp contains a Satan or a funny-voice genie or another terror, but she is shy to break it.
Someone has made a cage out of the Odd's gummy body, but it doesn't work very well. The smoke ball that is actually Satan's stove will escape easily. Even after death, the Odd is useless.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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