It was the last Movember before everything changed.
Oliver crowbarred open the sarcophagus
with a look of saucy joy, licking his purple lips.
Vanessa was filming it for her end-of-semester project.
The seal broke with a report that was half-pistol shot,
half almighty celestial shart. Adders began sinuating
from the gap. 'I have made a terrible error of judgement,'
he conceded as they burrowed into his skull
through the pulpy knuckle of his eye.
Black fire engulfed three continents.
Vanessa cut the footage to a soundtrack of Debussy
and eyeballs, mulching as the tomb collapsed.
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