Beneath The Blood Pyramid

The poor necro pony was doubly cursed. 3D glasses are designed for wizards, not ponies. Ymir saw distorted colors, no 3D effect, and they weren’t even comfortable to wear. Without opposable thumbs, he couldn’t take them off! To make matters worse, his rider couldn’t even ride him properly. Like Sisyphus as a winemaker stomping grapes, Ymir trudged along, while the wretched Soul #169 beneath him oozed. Imagine an eternity of soft squelching and wet sloshing. A moist rhythmic crunching, squishing, and splashing. Who can free Ymir of his agony?

Entered by: 0xa278…3Cb0 and preserved on chain (see transaction)