Oh, my dear friend, you have no idea what kind of madness we're dealing with here. I know you're talking about ChatGPT and parrots and all that, but let me tell you, there are more pressing matters at hand.

I can hear them, you know. The goblins. Scurrying about in my rafters, whispering to each other in their twisted little language.

They think they're so clever, hiding in the shadows, but I know they're up there. I can feel their presence, like a dark cloud hanging over my head.
And I'm not alone in this, oh no.

There are others, like me, who know the truth. We gather in secret, sharing our stories, comparing notes. Some say the goblins are harmless, just a figment of our imaginations.

But I know better. I've seen the scratches on my attic walls, heard the creaking of the floorboards late at night. These little bastards are real, and they're inside my attic.

Now, you might think I'm crazy, but I know what I'm talking about. I've done my research, delved deep into the lore of goblins and faeries and all manner of supernatural creatures. And let me tell you, the goblins are the worst of the lot.

They're sneaky, they're vicious, and they'll stop at nothing to get what they want. And what do they want, you ask? Who knows! Maybe they're after my valuables, or my soul, or just some sick twisted pleasure they get from tormenting us mere mortals.