Friday, 8 March 2013

Posse comitatus

   “You can have my gun, Sheriff.
   Terms and conditions apply.”

   After three or four minutes of fruitless finger-prizing, my skin temperature must have registered and soon she was searching - also in vain - for a pulse.

   “Please hurry up your horrified realization of a dark new reality shtick because the children have no time left. I’m not your enemy; but the thing inside the basement with those kids is and if you don’t persuade their parents to invite me in, then your little town will soon be overrun with munchkins such as you’ve never imagined. Emphasis on the ‘munch.’ ”

No comments: