They took him! They took the butt ugly bloke who was squatting in the bathroom! The one who kept insisting that the sun’s burning heat was cleansing the Earth of sin and, totally unconnected from that I assume, was divorced. Those hazmat-suited fiends! I ought to give them a piece of my mind.
I bloody well will do, just as soon as I’ve worked out who’s turned two of my other guests into neatly arranged bin bags of dead parts. My suspicions are firmly lodged at the feet of the toothless and fish-faced nun who ended up the only one in that room left alive, and my trigger finger’s itchy.
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