Something very bad happened to you a very long time ago: you died and it fucking hurt.

Your blood is cold, but your skin is colder. Your heart might as well be made of stone. Your memory is like treacle. Sometimes, you even remember to blink.

Being dead sucks, but I know what will make you feel better. Wet your mouth a little, have a drink! It’s time for a party. Let’s paint the town red.