Sarah had in mind to invoke some impossibly ancient, nameless deity, a Shubb, a Wandering Lust and, for a few star-speckled moments, we wondered if she'd actually come through with it this time.
"I am Golden. I have the Golden Hand that passes across the dimensions," she said but everyone was watching the football.
She took to wandering across the moors, looking for secrets and clotting her hair with sheepdip. . She spoke very little to the rest of us, preferring the company of Mark and the other Has-Runs. She spoke a little in tongues, at least it sounded like tongue.
After what seemed like an aeon (always the same time-frame with these freaks) Sarah was ready: candles stood on all five corners of the room, she's mapped out ancient letters on the crumbling floor amongst the goblets and swords and brambles and sores. The sky cracked open with lightning. The wind tipped dogs over walls. Sarah went into a deep trance, her eyes back-flipping like a Romanian. She opened her mouth and her tongue was black. She bent double, her spine crunching. She began to mutter the invokatiions, the unutterable utterances as the trees outside bent their submission to the wind and the forces of Nature curdled at her breath...
"Ah, bollocks" she said, her eyes suddenly wide open, "These nameless ones don't make it easy to invoke them down for their supper do they?"
And we saw it was good.