I was attending an ATM class in Morristown, NJ, when suddenly the malignant and unholy Prince Gholiard, Scourge of Hotel Conferences, coalesced from the depths of his ghastly realm. As is his wont, he announced it would amuse him to teach the class, so he turned his baleful stare on the instructor, annihilating him utterly.
Of course, he had no intention of doing so (he does so enjoy lifting spirits, only to laugh gleefully while dashing them to the ground). Instead, he opened a gate to the Lower Planes, releasing several ShadowMen who howled and screamed over the heads of the attendees. Two of my colleagues can be seen in front, bowing in terror and supplication. Unfortunately, I didn't bring a tape recorder, or I could also have let you hear their pleas for mercy, and then their mindless gibbering when Prince Gholiard caused them to become insane, on a whim.
I was fortunate enough to slip out the door during the coffee break.