2004-08-31 - 2:06 a.m.
April, 1965
Whispering his murderous thoughts aloud, diminutive balding Fargus Hambone attracted more than a few sidelong glances and raised eyebrows as he shuffled his way across the aisle in the darkened theatre. People begrudgingly scooched back to let him pass, but he still stumbled more than once on someone or another's foot.
"Blood blood... taste your filthy insides..." He rasped nastily to no one in particular.
Waiting tables can teach you a lot about yourself. But so can a lot of things, so I'll just shut up about it.
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