“You
can have my gun, Sheriff.
Terms
and conditions apply.”
After
three or four minutes of fruitless finger-prizing, my skin temperature must
have registered and soon she was searching - also in vain - for a pulse.
“Please
hurry up your horrified realization of a dark new reality shtick because the
children have no time left. I’m not your enemy; but the thing inside the basement with those kids is and if you don’t persuade their parents to invite me in, then your little town will soon be overrun with munchkins such as you’ve never
imagined. Emphasis on the ‘munch.’ ”
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