Zorn jammed his eyes shut, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that would spurt the rage. Mistreated kittens. Children dropping ice cream. Rainy Sundays. Wait, no, he liked that one. Yoko Ono? Dishonest politicians? Lazy highway workers? Nothing. Nothing seemed to work. If only someone could kick him in the balls.
Topher, in a sudden burst of inspiration, said, “Zorn, do you remember that show you used to love?”
“Not now, Topher.”
“Do you remember the name of the show?”
“Delmont and Bunny? Of course.”
The monster yanked on its one remaining leg, simultaneously swiping at him, its claws inches from his face. A small flicker of anger formed in his chest. If that thing touches me, I’ll press my thumbs into its eyes until they burst.
“Delmont was a ladyboy,” Topher said.
