#most bland ass monster fucker ever

[ameba-from-space]

Gonna start gatekeeping monsterfucking, the straights are driving me insane

If your monsterfuckery isn't at least a tiny bit queer and gender non-conforming then that shit is not monster fucking that's just a straight couple wearing a costume get that shit outta here

[tyrantisterrorart]

I posted this a while back on Patreon, with the intention of turning most of these sketches into a fun ATOM Bonus File called “Know Your Retrosaurs,” which would be written like an in-universe children’s book that serves as an introduction to paleontology.  That project hasn’t manifested because it’s a lot of work for something so ancillary, and now that drawing’s a lot more difficult to me it’s unlikely to happen at all, so I figured there’s no harm in spilling the beans on it now.  So I’m gonna go through these one by one for funsies after the cut.

1. Primitive Herbivorous Retrosaur: This guy, who I’m gonna call Agamadon, would have been the first species discussed in the Know Your Retrosaurs Book, and is based on the Crystal Palace Iguanadon sculpture.

2. Primitive Carnivorous Retrosaur: My first attempt at a primitive carnivorous retrosaur for the book.  While it has a suitable slurpasaur vibe to it and clearly shows their crocodilian ancestry, the design felt just a bit lacking.

3. Long Necked Goliath: Like the previous entry, I felt this illustrated what makes a Long Neck Goliath different from a modern, scientifically accurate reconstruction of a sauropod, but otherwise felt just a tad bland.

4. True Tyrant: This Gwangi looking fucker, on the other hand, felt just right.  I think the plan was to name him Hausenosaurus, after Ray Harryhausen, of course.

5. Duck-billed Goliath: People who’ve read the first few chapters of ATOM (as published on Horror Flora) may remember that I’ve re-purposed some dead and dubious taxonomic names as retrosaur species, because that’s the kind of nerdy shit that’s fun for me.  This fella would have been named Trachodon.

6. Tiny Tyrant: When I was a kid my dad got a big laugh out of learning there was a dinosaur called “Saltoposuchus” (which he pronounced “SaltopoSUCKus!”).  In honor of that bit of weirdness, this guy shall be named Nanosuchus.

7. Helmeted Goliath: I don’t think I got to the point of giving this guy a name, so I guess I’ll do this now.  Galeasaurus works, right?  It just means Helmet Lizard.  There’s a Bonus File kaiju whose design got its start here too, but we’ll get to that later.

8. Egg Thief: Benettosaurus, in honor of Jeff Benette, because this struthiomimus won’t settle for the dregs.

9. Spike Tailed Goliath: Coopersaurus!  After Merian C. Cooper, of course.

10. Flying Tyrant: Gonna steal a bit from the big book of 2005 Skull Island and call this one a Vultursaurus.

11. Club Tailed Goliath: Crassusaurus!  It means “fat lizard.”  Look, this fella’s fine with it, ok?

12. Transitional Tyrant: In the style of Japanese dinosaur names, let’s call this one Tsubururyu, i.e. “Tsuburuya’s Dragon.”

13. Horned Goliath: One of the reasons I won’t do a big bestiary of retrosaurs is that they’d all need latin names, and most of the good ones are taken.  Anyway, here’s Monocerasaurus.

14. Long Necked Sea Tyrant: When I get further into the Cryptid Crisis Files on Horror Flora, you’ll learn that there are two main body types for the surviving Long Neck Sea Tyrant cryptids: the Essies and the Pogos.  This design sits sort of in the middle of them.  I didn’t plan on using it in the “Know Your Retrosaurs” book, though, because it felt a bit awkward and unpolished.

15. Long Tailed Sea Tyrant: I like how snake-y this one feels.  Anguillasaurus!

16. Short Necked Sea Tyrant: This guy is sort of a prototype for Bigjaw.  Magnadon seems a suitable name.

17. Apex Predator: This guy would have flanked Agamadon at the start of the book, being a more refined Primitive Carnivorous retrosaur.  Let’s dub it Archaeosaurus.

18. Inedible Herbivore: There are a lot of ways to approach this prompt (by design), but I went the “so big nothing could kill it” route.  This would be our illustration for the Long Necked Goliaths, and we shall dub it Supremosaurus.

19. Plodding Giant: This one’s nspired by modern discoveries of some truly ENORMOUS hadrosaurs, because I didn’t want to do two long necked goliaths in a row.

20. Bizarre Burrower: the prehistoric ancestor to creatures like Burodon.

21. Swift Runner: Not super pleased how this fellow came out.  The concept I had in mind was a super fast helmeted goliath that could hit other retrosaurs like a living bullet, but I don’t think I ever figured out how to pull it off.

22. Cunning Pack Hunter: The obvious choice for this prompt would be a Tiny Tyrant, but I went a Flying Tyrant route instead.  I imagine these critters would act like flying pop culture piranhas, stripping larger animals of flesh with ridiculous speed.

23. Good Mother: That’s a Nessie!  Specifically, its a recreation of a Loch Ness Monster character I came up with as a kid that I only barely remember, the mother of a whole family of nessies who got into wild adventures while trying to avoid detection by human beings.  This would have been our Long Necked Sea Tyrant illustration.

24. Only Known from Fossils of Its Oversized Arms: It’s Dominox!  As a way of explanation: the Indominus rex, who Dominox obviously homages, had Therizinosaurus DNA to give it those big ass claws it has.  Therizinosaurus used to be only known from fossils of its ridiculously large arms, and outdated speculative depictions of it often looked pretty close to what the Indominus rex looks like, i.e. a big theropod with enormous arms and claws.  So Dominox is basically a retrosaur version of a Therizinosaurus, even if most people wouldn’t recognize her as such.

25. Famous Rivals (Carnivore): This is Manospondylus gigas/Dynamosaurus imperiosus, the largest terrestrial carnivore in the fossil record of ATOM’s universe.  Though once considered two separate species because of different horn arrangements and skull proportions, the discovery of Tyrantis and Tyranta (distant descendants of this ancient clade) threw that into question, as it now seems more likely that Manospondylus is just a female Dynamosaurus.  The name Manospondylus was briefly rendered a dead name as a result, only to be applied to the non-kaiju Dynamosaurus-descendants that the Reptodites often employ as mounts.

26. Famous Rivals (Herbivore): Agathaumasaurus is the largest non-kaiju species of Horned Goliath ever discovered, and is considered the end product of an evolutionary arms race between Horned Goliaths and True Tyrants.  Few reconstructions depicting the late Cretaceous would omit a face off between this well armored herbivore and its nemesis, the equally impressive killing machine Dynamosaurus!  This illustration and the one of Manospondylus before it would have been combined to make the “cover” of the Know Your Retrosaurs book.

27. Mistake of Nature: I chose a stegosaurus-inspired spike tailed goliath because people just LOVE to bring up the “brain the size of a walnut” factoid, even to this day.  This guy probably wouldn’t have made it into the book because it’s just a bit too silly.

28. Chaos Effect Style Hybrid: It’s Juggerdon, herself an homage to the Ultimasaurus from the failed Jurassic Park: Chaos Effect toyline!

29. Dinosapien: I could have just drawn a normal Reptodite, but instead I chose to give a glimpse into a parallel universe where Reptodites are a bit more like traditional depictions of Reptoids, the cryptid on which they’re partially based.  In other words, they’re lizard people who can alter their appearance to blend in with humans.

30. Artist’s Choice: It’s Diablosaurus!

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #106: Shadow.

Written: 4/26/2017                                                                      Monster Week

His first warning sign should have been the first time that he looked at his shadow, and saw a second shadow, that was slightly lighter, but Eric was a rational person, he wasn’t used to dealing with supernatural creatures, so he didn’t think much of it. He only figured that it was due to the light source, and the angle he was standing at, or something like that. He didn’t know a whole lot about shadows and lighting, but figuring that there was a reasonable answer was a more reasonable assumption than what the truth was. And, eventually the second shadow had disappeared, so there was no reason for him to worry any further, as if he had cause to worry in the first place.

Sure, the shadow may have detached from him at night, may have crept through his house to read his emails, look through his pictures, his posts on social media, every little detail about his life that it could find, studying him, but he was asleep when this was going on, there was no way for him to know of this. And, if he had woken up, went down the hall to use the bathroom, and passed by his study, where the light was on (shadows cannot survive without light), and out of curiosity and worry he peaked his head into the door, saw the shadow looking through his old, family photo album, he would become very worried, but only because he would think that he was losing his mind, and would set a reminder for him to schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist, instead of attempting to confront the shadow in any way. However, he still questioned his mental stability when he started to notice that nothing was where he remembered it being, but he only explained it away, figuring that he had been busy and tired, and he even considered the possibility that he may have been sleepwalking. All the while, his shadow followed him throughout the house, watching him in his frustration, interested in his complete willingness to believe that it was the cause of anything except for his shadow.

Now, the shadow felt the same way that most people do when they are surprised to get away with a crime, or even a lie, because it is so painfully obvious to themselves, but the person they are working over is missing the information that the perpetrator has, and seems pretty doltish, even though it is only a difference in perspective. If the culprit was in the same position as their mark, then they would also act in the same seemingly doltish way, but they don’t always understand this. The shadow was one who couldn’t understand it, and decided to test how far it could go to screw with Eric, desiring to see how much he could explain away. One morning, while he was getting ready for work, he saw that the contents of his closet were reversed, the jackets that were on the left were on the right, his shoes were in the same order but on the wrong sides, etc, but his only reaction was to say, “huh”, and get ready for work. He only assumed that he was groggy in the morning, and had just forgotten the natural order of his closet. This did not do nearly enough to satisfy his shadow, who still had a long while to be bound to this bland man, so it decided to step things up. So, the next morning, when Eric woke up, he found his phone at the bottom of his toilet, and on the mirror the phrase, ‘PIG FUCKER’, was written with a permanent marker. When he closed the bathroom door to get a better look, he noticed that the back of the door had his baby pictures glued to it. After checking all of the locks, all of the points of entry, and he saw that nothing was tampered with, he decided to schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist.

At first the shadow had dreaded the appointment with the psychiatrist, but it wasn’t actually fully aware of a psychiatrist was, and it was happy when it found out, especially since it was planning on bringing some physical harm to Eric, which was no longer necessary. Sure, when he talked about all of the little things that happened around his house, the shadow grew bored since it was already aware of it all, but when he started delving into other subjects, it started to get excited, because he was giving more personal information than it could ever find on its own.

“So”, said the psychiatrist, leaning back into his chair, “you don’t like your father?”

“Yeah”, Eric admitted, wringing his hands, “and I know that its a pretty common problem to have, I know its always something that people face. I feel like if I tell people that I hate my father, they will only laugh and say ‘who doesn’t’? I don’t know. I guess it feels like, to me, that it feels so whiny for me to want to complain about a problem that everyone faces. Its like complaining about having to work, who doesn’t hate working? If you didn’t hate it then it wouldn’t be work, you know?”

“So you hate your job?”

Containing his annoyance about these simple questions, “Yeah, but who doesn’t? Sure, its not where I wanted to end up at, but I guess it pays well so why should I complain? I’m making much more money than a lot of my friends, a lot of people that I used to go to school with, I guess you could say that I’m successful. I mean, yeah, I’m miserable now, but without the job I would be miserable anyways. I’d rather be bummed out and financially secure, than bummed out and having to worry about paying rent, or the next meal that I’m going to eat, or all of that crap. I can buy anything I want to anyways, even if I don’t really have that much free time. At first I thought that was like the catch of having a good paying job: you make a lot of money, but you just never have time to spend any of it. Yet, now I know that that’s probably a good thing. The only time that I have to complain about any of it is when I’m not working, and I spend most of my time working anyways, so I don’t have much time to even think about how crummy my life seems to feel. So I guess its not so bad.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Oh yeah, you don’t know that. Sorry. I work for a large company that manufactures small parts for different appliances, whose functions are so specific that you wouldn’t know their names if I told you, unless you were a repairman or a factory worker. I don’t want to go into that any further, its all less interesting than it sounds, and I know it doesn’t even sound that interesting in the first place.”

“Have you considered trying to move to a different field, or just a different company?”

“Yeah, but I guess I have a lot of security where I work now, and I’m already stressed as it is. Like, I don’t want to have to go work somewhere where I’ll have a risk of being fired, where I’ll have to put more effort in if I want to get promoted, or will try not to be demoted, and all of that. I have a pretty sweet deal where I work, and I guess its too valuable to trade away.”

“Why aren’t you at risk of any of that now?”

“Oh, well my father is the boss. Its how I got the job, and ended up in this field, in the first place.”

“Have you ever considered that your dislike for your father, and your dislike of your work, are connected?”

“Well, I’m not fully sure about that. Like, my main problems with my father are based in the fact that he’s always displeased that I’m not the son that he wants me to be.”

“And who does he want you to be?”

“I don’t really know, but I have a suspicion that he just wants somebody who is a lot like him. He’s a real serious man, though. Actually, calling him serious wouldn’t cut it, I guess I should call him ‘severe’. Its all business with him, and he hardly ever leaves the office. I see him working his ass off all of the time, its like he’s working for a company in Japan or something. I think he wants me to be as hard of a worker as he is, but I think it goes further than that. Whenever he calls me into his office, which doesn’t happen very often, he will always ask me what my opinions are on certain things, its like he’s testing me, but I always feel like I get the answers wrong.”

“Hm, what sort of questions does he ask you?”

“Weird things, its never business related. He always ignores anything that has to do with business, even if I’ve screwed up a shipment or something, he never talks about it. Its like he’s ashamed of me, ashamed of how terrible I am at this job, which is basically his legacy, you know? Its like he gets too  embarrassed to even mention that sort of stuff, so he just talks about other sorts of bullshit. Maybe he doesn’t take me seriously enough to talk about our work, maybe he doesn’t think I’m good enough.”

“But what questions does he ask you?”

“Pointless things, small talk. He asks me what I though about sports games that might have been on the previous night, or if there’s music playing in his office, which is usually very quiet, he asks me how I feel about the song. I don’t know why he asks those things, maybe he treats me as a joke, you know? Like, he only brings up those sorts of things to mock me, like he’s saying ‘son you’re a fuck up so I’m not even going to pretend to hide the fact, I’m not going to even attempt to talk about work, because I’m pretty sure you wont have a god damned clue about what’s going on’. I usually give a short answer and then leave when I can. I can’t stand those meetings.”

“I thought you said that your father was a very serious man? If he was, then why would he invite you into his office only to mock you in this way? And if he is so serious about your work, and thinks that you are a screw up, then why would he have hired you in the first place? It sounds to me like he’s just trying to expressive his love for you in the only way he knows how to. Have you considered the possibility that he is asking your opinions of those things because he cares about them, and wants you to care about them too? It may just be his way of trying to bond with you. And it seems like he could just be disappointed, acting as if you gave a ‘wrong answer’, because your responses are terse, they make it seem like you don’t want to be there with him, which could be disappointing to him. And if he was so serious, then why has he never fired or punished you? Could it be possible that he only wants to be able to work with his son, to spend time with you?”

“No, you don’t, you don’t know the man like I know him. What does any of this have to do with anything anyways? Huh? What does my asshole of a father have to do with my fuzzy memory, my sleepwalking?”

“I-”

“Shut it. I think you’re, you’re just running me around in circles, trying to get me all confused and flustered so that I’ll have to keep coming back for more and more sessions. You’re trying to create issues where there aren’t any, just so that you could avoid curing  me of the simple- this is just a fucking scam. This is just a con, its just a big waste of, screw you!” Eric stood up and began to put his jacket on, “You fucker. You know, the man is an asshole, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re an asshole too, you’re both assholes. Two pairs of assholes that are shitting up my life with their judgments.” As he walked towards the door, pointing towards his dick, “Diagnose this.”

The psychiatrist wasn’t offended. He knew that he had struck a nerve, and that Eric was only having a knee-jerk reaction. He just hoped that the guy would come back for more sessions, since he clearly needed the help.

Meanwhile, the shadow was excited, the session had revealed so much about Eric, and it now had enough information to carry on. So, when Eric was getting ready for work the next morning, he had realized that, when he looked in the mirror, he didn’t have a reflection. Knowing that it most likely meant that he really was losing it, but also harboring a strong hatred for psychiatrist, one that rivaled L Ron Hubbard, he decided that the best thing to do would be to ignore the whole situation, and hope that he didn’t leave any patches when he shaved. Now, if he was a bit more irrational, he still would not have guessed what was going on, because he may have started to suspect that he may be turning into a vampire, due to the lack of a reflection. However, the only reason that he would suspect that he was a vampire is due to misinformation spread by relatives of the shadow. They figured that if they attached that myth to a very popular type of monster, like vampires, it would spread quickly within the mainstream, and would distance themselves from the lack of reflections, which they actually cause. This is also another reason why the reality of vampires are so different from their mainstream portrayals, but this is not the place to discuss that.

Later, when Eric was sitting in his cubicle, completely focused on trying to fill out an expense report, he received a text:

Dad: Hey, stop by my office whenever you have the time. I would like to talk with you.

‘Great’, thought Eric, ‘another opportunity for him to.. Fuck him. I bet he’s assuming that I’ll come right away, like I’m never working and will take any excuse to avoid doing my job. As if I’m some sort of lazy slacker that he complains about to all of his friends. Fuck him, I’ll show him’. Two hours passed, with him completely engrossed in his work, before he stopped by his father’s office, but when he was about to turn the handle of the door, he could hear talking from the inside. As he was about to find a seat to wait, figuring that it must have been a meeting, he realized that one of the voices inside of the office sounded very familiar, but he didn’t know why. After five minutes of waiting, he decided to go back to his desk, deciding that it would be better for him to get more work done, instead of wasting his time waiting to be mocked.

However, only after about five minutes, back at his desk, he received a text from his father, which only contained a link to one of those ticket purchasing websites. When he opened it on his phone, he saw that it was specifically for tickets to the band that his father usually had playing during their meetings, a common one used when he would look down on his son, and he took it as an insult, figuring that his father was implying that he had nothing better to do, and may as well go to some concert to get drunk and slack off. That was it. He wasted no time getting to the office, but heard that the meeting was still underway. Figuring that the old man was probably talking to a friend of his, probably showed his friend the text that he sent, so that both of them could laugh about it, he decided to barge into the office anyways, to tell them off, but when he was inside he wasn’t prepared for what he saw, and he froze up only after taking two steps inside the room.

Across from his father was Eric, who seemed confused to see Eric walk into the room. Eric closed the door behind him, feeling that it was the only usefully thing to do, but when he turned back to the other men, he was unnerved by the fact that they seemed more worried than he was. For five minutes straight, everyone was frozen, Eric and his dad stared at Eric, who stared back at them. The father was the only one to break the silence, saying to his seated son, pointing to the one standing by the door, “You can see him too, right? I’m not losing my marbles, right?”

“Yeah,” Said the seated Eric, “I see him too. You’re not going crazy.”

“Unless”, rubbing his temple, “this is one of those cases of ‘mass delusion’, and we’re both seeing the same thing. What color is his shirt?” The seated son was about to answer, but the father blurted out, “Wait, no, don’t say it yet. If you say what you see, I could start to think that I see that same color, and it could only add to the delusion.” The son by the door was uncomfortable with this sort of attention, but didn’t know how to react, what to say, so he just stood there, trying to figure out the situation for himself. “Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three…”

“Navy blue”, they both said quickly.

Suddenly, Eric though of something to say, “Dad, who are you talking to.”

“Why”, suddenly growing confused, “I’m, I’m talking to you.”

“I’m standing right here, there is nowhere in the room with us.”

“Jesus, I must be…” Pointing to the seated Eric, “You, are you real or not? Actually, why would you tell me if you were… How do I..” Putting his face into his hands, “God, I need a fucking shrink.” Lifting up his head, “Alright, you, Eric, by the door, come have a seat by my desk. I’ll get this sorted out, I’ll figure out who exactly is the hallucination.” Pressing a button on his office phone, “Wendy?”

“Yes?” Replied a voice, from the phone.

“Can you come in here real quick, I need your help with something.”

“Alright, I’ll just be a sec.”

In only a short amount of time, his secretary had walked through the door, closed it behind her, then was suddenly surprised by the two Erics. “Alright”, said the father, “where is my son sitting? I think I’m starting to go crazy, I need some help getting grounded to reality.”

“I don’t know what to tell you”, replied Wendy, “I see two of him. He’s sitting in both seats.”

“If it makes any difference”, said the Eric who was originally sitting, and was wearing a cream colored shirt, “I feel like I’m real.”

“I feel like I’m real too!” Exclaimed the Eric in the navy shirt.

“I feel like I’m having a fever dream.” Moaned the father. The secretary turned to leave, not wanting to deal with the bizarre situation, but the father shouted, “Wait, don’t leave the room. You have to stay here until we get this all figured out. Actually, you know what, lock the door.” She locked it. “What time is it?” Checking his watch, “A quarter to five? Well, we’ll all just sit right here and wait for everyone to clear out of the building, and then we can get this problem figured out.”

“You know”, Said the navy son, getting an idea to prove that he’s real, “I have a lot of work to do, if you let me go back to my desk I could get that finished by the time everyone leaves. I wont say a word about it.”

“Ha”, laughed the cream son, “you must not be real if you’re thinking of work in a time like this. Let’s just talk, there’s no need to have to be so serious all of the time.” The father chuckled in agreement.

The father and the cream shirted son spent the time by having a conversation about Phish, last night’s baseball game, and then agreed upon which beer brands they thought were terrible, while the secretary dicked around on her phone, and the navy shirted son stared at the ceiling, only wanting to get out of there. He was confident in knowing that he was the real son, so he knew that he didn’t have to do much to prove it. Plus, the other guy was acting in a way that he would never act, and was basically digging his own, or its own, grave. Eventually the father checked his watch again, noticed that it was 5:30, and nodded his head, figuring that everyone was probably out of the office. Then, he reached into his desk drawer, and pulled out a revolver, which he began to load. The two sons didn’t say a word, they were suddenly terrified of the implication, but the secretary never took her eyes off of her phone.

“Now”, said the father, “its clear that one of you is either a hallucination, or some sort of doppleganger. Either way, shooting you will seem to fix the situation. If you are a hallucination, the bullet will go right through you, and we can chose to ignore you and set up appointments with a psychiatrist.” This made the navy shirted son laugh. Waiting patiently for his possible son to finish, then, “If one of you is a doppleganger, than the bullet should kill you, and we will make sure to dump your body somewhere, and then we could repress the hell out of that knowledge.”

“Why”, asked the cream shirted son, “do you keep a revolver in your desk?”

“Good question, I like that you asked it. I went through a dark period when your mother passed, and I know that it was hard on you too, I know that you blamed me for it, but I also blamed myself. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was close to the edge, because that is behind me now, but I kept this with me in case it ever became too much for me. I just never got rid of it, I guess. Now, I understand why you blamed me, why you started to become so spiteful towards me, but I can only hope that you can forgive me.”

“I forgive you, dad.” Said the cream shirted son.

“Fuck you.” Said the navy shirted son, rising out of his chair, “The fucking nerve you have for, how can you… Do you know what you put that woman through? How can you even think that I would ever forgive you? And all this time you still have, you know, being suicidal about this doesn’t humanize you! You’re a fucking, you should have shot yourself forever ago! You think you can bribe me with-” BANG, the first shot wasn’t well aimed and tore a hole into his throat, which started to spurt out blood, with each pulse, onto the father’s desk. The secretary screamed, the other son was unfazed. Trying to stop the bleeding by holding the wound, the navy shirted son, the real Eric, tried to say something, say anything, to show his father the mistake that he was making, but he was unable to get any words out. BANG, a second bullet hit him in the forehead, and he fell forwards onto the desk, banging his head, with a crack, then dropping to the floor. Everyone, except for the father, watched as blood began to pool out onto the floor.

“But”, stammered the secretary, eyes wide with fear, “but, he was, that was your son!” Looking her boss in the eyes, “He was, your son would never forgive you for- you know that!”

Holding up a hand to try and silence her, “Now, Wendy-”

“What did you do?! What the hell did you do?!”

“Please, listen to me-”

“You-” BANG, BANG, BANG. One in the eye, one in a lung, the other had gone through the door behind her, since she had already slumped to the ground by the time it left the chamber.

The living Eric just sat there, no expression on his face, looking at the father. “Now”, said the father, putting his revolver into the drawer, “you’re going to be my son, aren’t you?”

“Didn’t somebody, couldn’t-”

“With the factory below us, and the insulation in this room, nobody will have thought twice about the shots. Don’t worry about that. After we hide them away, we’re in the clear. However, you just need to do one thing for me, if you want to save your own ass.”

“What is that?”

“Just keep being my son.”

“And you’re just fine with that? Why are you helping me? If you knew-”

“Well, he”, pointing to the general direction of his son’s corpse, “wasn’t much of a son anyways. You’re my chance to have the boy that I always wanted, and it doesn’t matter if you aren’t real. You’re real enough.”

Outro