fuck this

I don't like ghost stories. Stupid fake ass shit that people have been buying into longer than the fucking lottery. Mirrors, fake smoke, recorded spooky sounds, all that shit your local fuckin JayCees pull off every year at the goddamn charity Haunted House. An you don't believe that shit is real, doya?

They're cons, and I fuckin hate cons and I fuckin hate people who get conned....

So what the fuck am I supposed to do here? This Killian guy tells me that this poor dead fuck we're looking at is gonna have an ID on him and his name is gonna be Ekram. Lo and behold, sure as shit, he pulls out the guys wallet and his name is Ekram.

If we hadn't, like, just beat the shit out of that smarmy ass Dale motherfucker, I woulda thought this was some sort of freaky ass reality show. Ya know, like that shit they pull in Japan? Except no reality show is gonna let the contestants beat on the host with a goddamn pair of handcuffs, or let some stoner go up in flames like a christmas tree in fuckin February.

And that's guy, that Ekram, he's really fuckin dead. That aint no bullshit rubber corpse with a bunch of red food-coloring all over the floor. It aint like I'm no expert on dead people, but I fucking know one when when I see one, and that guy has fucking exited the building.

Maybe this Killian guy, he's like met him before? Maybe he's pulling a con? But it don't seem like it, it seems like he's a creeped out as I am. More likely he's being pulled along this just like I am.

Except we aint gettin pulled along now. We are derailing THIS fuckin train. I don't know what exactly is gonna happen next, but I am getting the fuck out of this place, and God fuckin help anyone who tries to stop me.