These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.Tod Donavon (59), Las Madres Police Department, has detected something horribly wrong with his ex-wife, and it just might have something to do with the thrill-kill cult he's investigating. And possibly his frequent blackouts.If only Internal Affairs would quit chewing his ring, he could finally get some work done and maybe even find some of these missing kids. Someone's not doing their job, but if he's left alone to do his there won't be any work left, nor anyone to do it.This is how Tod's world ends, and how he's ending yours--yesterday was a crimson blur, and tomorrow brings the rising of the Black Sun.CONTENT WARNING: LanguageThis main character has a particularly foul mouth. Cursing throughout. He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.
