Parlayed

• Skullptor

  Angus was at the wheel of his fire engine-red Porsche, going a hundred and eight past a sign that clearly put two fives next to each other with nary a one in sight. On either side of the road, the green of well-cultivated farms stretched out as far as the eye could see, if you dared take your eyes off the road that is. Angus had his eyes on the road but he wasn’t looking at it.

  Skullptor

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