“My bliss? Um, that basically got barbecued where it stood. I don’t think I can follow that. Seriously. All that’s left is a macabre husk that induces contagious nightmares in anything that glances toward it. I ain’t following that. Besides, I don’t think it moves anymore. It just sort of stands there. Threatening to collapse or maybe just continue smoldering. And the stink. It doesn’t incline one toward following.”

— an anonymous informant