Predator Press
[LOBO]
Phoebe was standing over me as the ship sank.
"C'mon LOBO," she insisted over my broken and battered pile of hapless flesh and bones. "We have to fight Admiral Crunch!"
Prostrate, I mutter vainly through a leathery, swollen head.
"You can't give up now," she pleaded encouragingly. "It's like falling off of a horse. What do you do when you fall off of a horse?"
"You shoot them," I mumbles.
Beautiful White Stallion --spattered with oil and gunpowder stains-- was quiet until now, cringing under the closing explosions. "This guys a jerk," he concludes to Phoebe.
Goddamn it I thought. A concussion.
This has been a long day.
Above all else, pretend you don't see that damn polka-dotted horse.
[LOBO]
Phoebe was standing over me as the ship sank.
"C'mon LOBO," she insisted over my broken and battered pile of hapless flesh and bones. "We have to fight Admiral Crunch!"
Prostrate, I mutter vainly through a leathery, swollen head.
"You can't give up now," she pleaded encouragingly. "It's like falling off of a horse. What do you do when you fall off of a horse?"
"You shoot them," I mumbles.
Beautiful White Stallion --spattered with oil and gunpowder stains-- was quiet until now, cringing under the closing explosions. "This guys a jerk," he concludes to Phoebe.
Goddamn it I thought. A concussion.
This has been a long day.
Above all else, pretend you don't see that damn polka-dotted horse.
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