This description of Earth from afar, yes, by Death Itself.[1] I picture the silent screening, the four of them, again with wonderful jackets. A large Italian man heaves up rumors in that first conversation.

Sixteenth note in a decade destined to go down the tubes, and voices intermingling still, then silence. "Nice bass line," the cashier from the local record store said, fingering his suburban punk mullet. I stood there like a pussy.

Camp Wagner has begun.




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[1] Max Von Sydow, The Emperor Ming, a/k/a "Ming the Merciless"; The Seventh Seal (Igmar Bergman, 1957).