I can feel you out there, quietly loathing me; the clickings and scrapings of weapons being assembled, and the singing of a knife being sharpened.
Thank you. You can’t possibly know how much it means to me that you wish to put me out your misery; but I must continue to cling to life. I must finish this.
It’s become a holy quest – a crusade, if you will. I don’t know what I’ll find when I reach my destination. Perhaps a sense of accomplishment, and an incredibly high [for me] page count.
Now, if you’ll hold still a moment and permit me to tie this rope around you, I’ll hitch you to this truck and we’ll continue our trip into hell.
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