The Wreckoning, Pt 20

Movement is not possible, I passed out at 7:30 out of a desire to survive. I cannot finish this, my work. It is not due until Thursday; tomorrow will be hell. But tonight is hell, just ask a meat thermometer. If they don't let me sleep in the aisles of Econo Food, then at least my blood shall run ice cold, a slurry of chilled bile and clotted hate. 80% done, but 97% decimated. It's a hair-split race to that end line now, and Hollywood has ruined any retrohumorism of a "them Duke boys" joke. Karma, indeed, is a bitch.

Leviathan -- Suckling at the Teat of Revenge (from Verrater)