“So I see this gaunt, sun-starved gremlin with a mop of greasy, matted hair hanging over its pockmarked face. It smelled like death itself was climbing those steps, son. A slow, shit covered death. The instant I perceived it, I knew that it needed to die. Some animal instinct within me understood that there was no place in this world for a thing so repulsive. I swear to god, if I ever see it again, I’ll incinerate both it and myself. I can’t let even its memory survive.”

*Tears streaming down their face* “Right on, dad.”