"Agashiel," Pat [Sajak] began and did his best to sound friendly and at ease. "I am told you are the psycho-physical manifestation of human nightmares. You must not get a lot of sleep."
The grotesque flesh-marionettes of the studio audience erupted with a shrill and uneven staccato of laughter.
"You make your residence in the ephemeral substance of slumbering fear and as long as at least one human is paralyzed with terror you will always have a home to return to."
A susurration of confluent rivers of paranoia, horror, and despair emerged from Agashiel's rictus mask and formed a prickling approximation of English.
"The sweet meat dreams of me." Agashiel intoned. "Dreams of me."
He reached out as though to caress Pat Sajak's face but the host was wise enough to pull away. The audience laughed even more enthusiastically than before.