"It is a place full of EVILS and slow-motion debauchery. A never-ending and eternal droll of silly hats and pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. Do not even whisper its name, for the mere mention brings forth an unspeakable vortex of birthday wishes that forever traps you in a long-winded and lurid gale of hollow joy. Many an adventurer hath entered that putrid domain, but never to emerge again. Be THANKful, for I have warned you of the EVILS in the CRYPT of the PARTY SLOTH. Let us pray that within a MONTH's time this undead party will have ceased and we'll all be spared our doom." The old man stared, one eyebrow cocked so high it almost touched the ceiling.
"Dude, I just wanted directions to the ice cream shop. Just because you don't like their decorations doesn't mean I'm not going to go," the foolish young man said before marching off to get a snow cone.