On it were Saltines, several blocks of cheese, and a Swiss Army knife. It swirled softly through the air above the assembly line, and Knox found his speech-patterns keeping time. Jonesy breathed them in. Supposed to keep the nightmares away, I guess.
The other one— There was a crunching bang. Nothing was funny, nothing was ironic. He was sixty, but not looking too bad; those busted veins on the sides of his feet were the worst of it. THERE! he called to them.
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