The-thing-that-used-to-be-Mr.-Wickers is outside howling again. Richie says he caught the bastard in one of his "advanced" bear traps and yet there he is, crying like the devil itself just came down and tore out his intestines through his eyes.
Pardon the language, we aren't used to having company over. It's just been so hard to travel with all these amalgamations and monstrosities popping up from out of nowhere and rendering your loved ones as little more than meat puppets. Hence the-thing-that-used-to-be-Mr.-Wickers.
He was such a nice man too, up until a pack of not-wolves-anymore caught him unawares when he was checking his crayfish pots down by the lake. We told him time and time again to let us know and we'd gather a group, cover each other's backs but that man was as stubborn in life as he is in whatever state you can call this.
There's something of his old self there for sure, otherwise how else would he have been able to remember the combination for the lock on his front door? Now whether that part of him is still about remains to be seen, he certainly carries no qualms over killing people he used to know.
First one to go was a fellow he'd had disagreements with since before all this devilry was unleashed, back when they were children and all. He never stood a chance, the-thing-that-used-to-be-Mr.-Wickers pounced him the second he stepped off his boat and he hasn't moved since. Not for lack of trying though, just that there isn't much of him left to move.
I reckon he'll merge with a fish and wreck the-thing-that-used-to-be-Mr.-Wickers' crayfish pots and kickstart their squabbling all over again. Richie reckons he'll be got by a plant and go on to ruin all our external crops. He always was a spiteful old git, too stubborn even for death.
Still, that'll be us all one day. Part of the bigger picture, the next stage in evolution, as what passes for the government likes to say with all their conjoined mouths. Couldn't trust them separately, certainly can't trust them now but at least they can finally get their lies in order.
I suppose we ought to do more than wait for the end to find us but really, what else is there?
Pardon the language, we aren't used to having company over. It's just been so hard to travel with all these amalgamations and monstrosities popping up from out of nowhere and rendering your loved ones as little more than meat puppets. Hence the-thing-that-used-to-be-Mr.-Wickers.
He was such a nice man too, up until a pack of not-wolves-anymore caught him unawares when he was checking his crayfish pots down by the lake. We told him time and time again to let us know and we'd gather a group, cover each other's backs but that man was as stubborn in life as he is in whatever state you can call this.
There's something of his old self there for sure, otherwise how else would he have been able to remember the combination for the lock on his front door? Now whether that part of him is still about remains to be seen, he certainly carries no qualms over killing people he used to know.
First one to go was a fellow he'd had disagreements with since before all this devilry was unleashed, back when they were children and all. He never stood a chance, the-thing-that-used-to-be-Mr.-Wickers pounced him the second he stepped off his boat and he hasn't moved since. Not for lack of trying though, just that there isn't much of him left to move.
I reckon he'll merge with a fish and wreck the-thing-that-used-to-be-Mr.-Wickers' crayfish pots and kickstart their squabbling all over again. Richie reckons he'll be got by a plant and go on to ruin all our external crops. He always was a spiteful old git, too stubborn even for death.
Still, that'll be us all one day. Part of the bigger picture, the next stage in evolution, as what passes for the government likes to say with all their conjoined mouths. Couldn't trust them separately, certainly can't trust them now but at least they can finally get their lies in order.
I suppose we ought to do more than wait for the end to find us but really, what else is there?
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