by…so that bullet meant for someone else tore through his windpipe.
…Yeah, it’s ironic but effective as being froze in hell. Anyway, Death flew in fueled by years of anticipation. But instead of a gloriously antiheroic End fit for Death’s collection, blood was leaping from the man’s throat like rats from any old doomed place. And those famous piercing eyes? They were just blanks. You’ll live, said Death, plugging the hole with a dirty sock. Hey, shouted Life. You think I want this guy? Pick him up! But Death had split…
Yes, that’s the end of that one, sir. You enjoy all that? Glory be, just look out the window. Ain’t that the most gorgeous golden sun? You could use some, but it’s setting now. How’s about something sweet? You look like you need it after all that icky stuff you’ve chucked
