It seems I have been called out. Iím surprised it doesnít happen more, what with all the shit I talk around here.
But come on, man. You have toy dogs on fire! You have clowns getting their throats ripped out! You have the end of civilization looking as if itís been planned by some whacked-out acid-head thatís been watching way too many cartoons!
And you expect me to wait? Yeah, thereís that bit about shopping. But hereís the thingóthe guy still has his abilities, and heís basically using them to score brownie points. That will probably end up being important to the story later.
So yeah, itís weak, but what are you gonna do? Iím not going to follow this guyís adventures through five years just to build up to the killer poodles. Iíll rush through it, Iíll throw in whatever crap I need to so that youíll know five years have passed, and those five years might have been important to him. I could give a damn about those five years, honestly, and if I can sum it up with one trip to the mall, Iíll do it. You gave us the killer canines, Trey, but only in vision.
I want them here, chasing, slobbering, and biting our heels.
So two things: I will never take my place as wormfood before you, my friend, because you donít have the hate to keep you going. Iíll run on half a lung, an inch of intestine, and a heart that beats every three and a half minutes, and Iíll run like that forever, just so I can bitch about the world. You talk rough, but you're really a nice guy.
And the other thing: itís true that I am in love, loyal readers, but Iíll never let it corrupt the evilness inside me. Keep reading Two Heartbeats, and I think youíll be pleasantly horrified.