Demarco Mount descended.
The day just broke.
Four people sat on the rocks, each busy with their own tasks.
An old man sharpening a sword, a young girl putting on makeup, a middle-aged man meditating, and a muscular man making a phone call.
"Damn Terry Moore! Why does my phone keep receiving texts from casinos? Did you go to some strange website?"
"Karen, I just used your number to browse some educational videos. No worries, just ignore it." Terry Moore lay on the stone, a blade of grass in his mouth.
"And what about the shampoo bottle being replaced with hair removal lotion?"
"Bald equals strong, right? Brother Karen, long-distance calls are expensive. Well, I used up your shampoo last time and was afraid you'd ask me for money, so I poured the remaining hair removal lotion into it. You wouldn't..."
As he spoke, the blade of grass fell from Terry Moore's mouth.
"Let me count, how many are left. One, two... Damn Terry Moore, I will skin you alive!"
