I don’t do Thanksgiving “things”. I think I’m pretty good at seeing my life and what...
This is my existential crisis. It is not a large crisis. In fact it is nothing more than a small irritation that festers just under the skin.
Identical twins, a party invitation, and a locked closet. Throw in Cthulhu and a bunny rabbit and what happens?
What happens when you cross nuns, bakeries, spending sprees, and zombies? Nothing good, I promise.