There was a young lady named Aztecia
Whose dress was made my Demeter
But it was now nearing decay
Oh how she cried in dismay
For she knew she could never look freakier

Flappy the gargol could bear not her sadness
And in a brilliant moment of madness
They cooked up a plan
A competition began
Sentinels would design clothes renowed for their badness

All over Achaea Sentinels eyes began to shine
Here was thier chance to excel in design
A wardrobe so shocking
Causing such mocking
The wearer's sanity could only begin to decline

Before very long entry's began pouring in
The number so many it was almost a sin
Screams could be heard
Prehaps an obsence word
Aztecia had not expected things to be so grim

She may well have specified no mumu's
But someone has designed a tutu
It was pink
Oh the stink
Just what had she gotten herself into

But do not dispair or worry my Sentinel friends
For our story here does not end
There still is time
For you to design
And help keep Azzie up with the trends.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Chronos, in the year 347 AF.