A reasonable being might think that he and I could find some common ground; have a cup of coffee and compare our Passengers, exchange trade talk and chitchat about dismemberment techniques. But no: Doakes wanted me dead. And I found it difficult to share his point of view.

I don't know if you have noticed this, but it is quite possible for two human beings to have a conversation in which one or both parties involved has absolutely no idea what they're talking about.

I sighed; as comforting as it may be to some of us, sarcasm, like youth, is wasted on the young.

Mutilated corpses with a chance of afternoon showers. I got dressed and went to work.

And as always seems to happen when I have reached the point where I am ready to take decisive action, everything began to happen at once.

I looked around the store and what I saw was not very encouraging. There were rows and rows of violent toys...aisle after aisle of training devices for recreational slaughter. No wonder our world was such a mean and violent place...if we teach children that killing is fun, can we really be surprised if now and then someone is smart enough to learn?

Nothing else loves me, or ever will. Not even - especially - me. I know what I am and that is not a thing to love.