Sometimes, as he trudged through the muck behind the dark-cloaked man who served as his guide, Thal had wondered if what he was experiencing was really happening. It didn’t seem possible that he, a world-famous sports superstar, idol of billions, full-fledged god in the Church of Champions, could have been reduced to fleeing through the excrement of the very people who had once worshipped and adored him. It didn’t seem possible that his goals had been diminished from winning a third consecutive World Series to reaching the opposing team’s citydome before his own former fans managed to tear him to pieces.
Unfortunately, the stench and the cold and the wet always left him no doubt that what he was living was harsh reality.
The pink hippo kept reminding him, too.
"Bet you’re tired, huh?"
