This is a journey into madness. Upon the stoop lay the bedraggled, near-dead, spasmodic renegade duck known as Dack Bohdlem. Just as the prophecy had foretold so many weeks prior, he had fallen from the lair of the dragons in the clouds to a hot slab of brick where the one-eyed errand boy of fate had come to collect his eternal ghost. Dack wheezed and spat a shimmering crimson loogie on to the shattered remains of his muscular wing. "Death..." said Dack. "...is a meal I never thought I'd be ordering off the dollar menu."
The frail, crusty monstrosity with a bulbous eyeball filling most of its awful spherical head had rounded the corner and moved towards Dack with the slow, crushing certainty of the steamroller of Time. Dack's vision blurred and the world shifted and spun between blotches of red and black like a kaleidoscope that you look into and then it makes you die. "I'm not going out like this. Life still owes me that one last--" he paused while the circuitry of his fuming brain attempted to produce the crescendo to a catchphrase that might make all of this worthwhile. "--still owes me that one last winky smile."
And with that vain, nonsensical protest, the one-eyed enforcer of the oldest rule of all things went about its business as usual.
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