This time when he turns back around, the MURG doesn ’ t look like a MURG to Keith anymore. It ’ s more like a gladiatorial arena. Keith almost begins to wish there were a few hundred more dead f***s on the other side of the fence to watch this, because he knows it ’ s going to be good. He passes the wooden post from hand to hand, getting used to its shape and size and weight, then moves in to attack. In his head he tells himself he ’ s going in for the kill, but how can he kill this thing when it ’ s already dead?
No matter.
He swings the wood around hard and fast, making brutal contact with the side of the dead youth ’ s head, almost ripping his right ear off completely. The power of the strike is astonishing: the body spins around and around, twisting its legs around itself like a cork
