eng sub Movie Stream What About Love
✰✰ ♤♤♤♤♤♤
✰✰ Link Here
✰✰ ✺✺✺✺✺✺
actor Iain Glen
runtime 114 min
writer Douglas Day Stewart
Two young lovers change the lives of their parents forever when the parents learn from the joyful experience of their kids, and allow themselves to again find their love
One of the best song of all time! 🤘❤.
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First listen to this song in 6th grade, now ima be a senior in high school. MEMORIES.
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I was such an awkward teenager at the time I didn't get it. A friend explained it to me.
First timer. Ok this is by far the best episode. I wasn’t sure who was the girl at the beginning but everything become clear when a very youg Mamedai appeared on the scene. At that point I was very excited to see more of Tamako's mom. But then, the anime turns away and started to show Anko's new conflict (btw she is getting the most interesting conflicts so far) and make me forget about what happen initially. There is also Mochizou birthday so there where a lot of things happening. I was fine until the song started playing and it was at that point that I knew that today’s episode was going to be great. What appears to be the main problem of the episode, suddenly it was casted aside and the very awaited song becomes the main attraction. It was perfectly executed and left me on the verge of crying (I don’t know why). It was already a really fucking good episode and I wasn’t expecting more, but Tamako's gift was the cherry in the cake, I didn’t expect it and fulfilled what the previous scene did not accomplish. I was a little overwhelmed by emotions. I can’t quite put it in words. I’m so happy for Mochizou. He craves for Tamako’s attention but, when he saw that Anko was sad and in needed of help, decides to trow away his desire and help that sweet little angel. So just like we, the audience, he wasn’t expecting a gift and just like me, he was hit by an un uncontrollably rush of emotions. The interaction between Anko and Mochizou was sweet, at first I didn’t like Mochizou’s approach to Anko's problem. Assuming someone problem is not very nice, but it worked nonetheless so I can’t complain. Last but not least, Midori playing with Choi's faces was fricking cute. Note: Im not good at writing wall text, English is not my first language so apologies is something is not clear.
Movie stream what about love life. Movie stream what about love music. 
Linda demaisss. Apple Music, Spotify, Google Play, iTunes 👉 FOLLOW K!K! Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - YouTube.
That backup vocals rocks the stage too
Abangers version ever loveu kyla❤. 
Movie Stream What About lovely
She's like a combination of charice and sarah g. Lol came here after I heard Ange's version of this song lol. The following features a transcript from a short radio broadcast that has been picked up by various listeners across the continental United States. Many have been perplexed by its sudden appearance and how it seems to preempt whatever song or radio program they are listening to at the time. It has even been known to appear on streaming programs such as podcasts or Spotify. Listeners have described hearing different episodes and there have been many different situations and occurrences. Trevor contacted me with his story. He had heard the broadcast while driving in the southeastern United States. He spilled his story out to me in a venomous diatribe against the South. I was not sure what his vendetta against the region was. I knew that it had its problems and troubled history just like any other place in America, but he viewed it with a personal contempt that was jarring. This is his story. The Goddam South. Why oh why did my best friend have to move here? I guess these things are bound to happen eventually. You know someone all of your life: through kindergarten and junior high and high school and even end up at the same college together. But the real world comes along and so starts the job hunt and all of the offers and for some reason he accepts a job in Birmingham Freaking Alabama. There’s a big signing bonus and relocation fees and if you commit to three years at the company, you get another huge bonus. They’re practically bribing anyone with a STEM degree to come to these shitty little flyover states. I mean, we were from an almost flyover state in Pennsylvania and had gone to college at Stanford where I thought we had seen the light. The goal was to not end up in one of these places. The least he could’ve done was to go back to Pittsburgh. It’s really come a long way. For Tyler to move to a red state after all this time feels like a betrayal of all of our values and morals. I guess there really is a price tag on everything. We got really political together during our college years in Stanford. It was hard not to be. It was in the air and in the water down there, and it was a great way to make friends and meet chicks. When 2016 happened, the first presidential election that we were able to vote in, the politicking hit a fever pitch. First, when our boy Bernie didn’t get the nomination through some shadiness from the DNC and then when Trump won, whoo boy. We were full on in the whole resistance movement. It felt like we were part of something, you know? We even went to a couple of those protests in Berkeley that got a little out of hand. So after graduation when he told me the news, it was a huge kick in the nuts. What was I gonna do without Tyler? We were brothers in arms. Since kindergarten we hadn’t gone a full three weeks without seeing each other. Like hell I was going to follow him to that godforsaken hell hole. Alabama? It is possible that he moved there because of that gal he started talking to on the internet. From what little he talked of her, she was from somewhere down south. I thought it was just a one off thing, a line of communication to someone on the front lines of the resistance, but maybe not. He didn’t confirm either way when he called me and told me that things were getting serious and that he really wanted me to come meet her. The worst part of it was that he wanted me to come there. I offered to host them at my place in Portland, but he deferred my offer. “So I guess this is it, huh? You’re some kind of Southerner? ” “C’mon man, it’s not that bad. ” “Why didn’t you at least take a job in Austin if you wanted to go to the south so badly? Austin I could vibe with. ” “Austin isn’t in the South though, it’s Texas. ” “Whatever. How is it living in a third world country? ” “It’s Alabama. Not Mississippi. ” “You think you’re gonna fulfill your contract and get the hell out as soon as you can? ”“I dunno. I’m actually starting to like it here. It’s laid back. ” “Yeah, if you’re white. ” “It’s not what you think. Just come on down here and see for yourself. I haven’t seen you in a while and it would be good to hang. Things are getting really serious between me and Diane. I think she might be the one. I’d love for you to meet her and have your blessing. Make sure I’m not making a rash decision. ” “Fine, ” I sighed. “I’ll visit The Goddam South with its n-word using, gay bashing, illtierate, immigrant fearing, inbred hicks. ” “Hey man, cut the shit. You’re completely off base. You’ve never even been here. Do you even know how many immigrants we’ve got here? You know you’re really in your own little bubble out there. Cut off from reality. I didn’t see it until I moved out here, how out of touch we could be. You’re talking like some kinda “coastal elite”. How much diversity is there in Portland? How’s that homeless thing working out for ya’ll? ” Coastal elite? Ya’ll? It was really worse than I had feared. They were converting him. I knew I had to visit and soon. Not for a visit to catch up on old times and give him my blessing, but for an intervention. I apologized to him over the phone and began to make arrangements for my visit. Hopefully I could save him. **** I managed to secure some time off from work. I can’t get into the specifics just yet, but I was a programmer at a startup for a new app we were releasing that was going to involve car repairs and hopefully disrupt that industry. They were cool with giving me a full week off. I had never seen New Orleans and always kind of wanted to go, so my plan was to stay a night there and then drive up and over to Birmingham. I roamed up and down Bourbon Street alone and listened to some jazz and drank sazeracs and hurricanes and almost puked in an alleyway as I hear is tradition in New Orleans. Later, I got some beignets at Cafe Du Monde and it sobered me up enough to get an Uber back to my hotel safely. A late start the next morning on account of my hangover, I took I-59 North. I was ahead of schedule by a half day for when I was supposed to meet up with Tyler, so I figured I would drive over to Montgomery and check out this new memorial they had there. The interstates was a corridor with walls of tall skinny pines lining the sides. The walls of pines bordered large fields of brown, tufts of white popping out like snow. Cotton. The air was thick and hot and my AC was blasting. Large green vines crawled and completely covered low lying ravines and anything in their path. I could make out the shapes of trees under them that had been swallowed. I would later learn that this vine was called kudzu. Billboards appeared every now and then, advertising and sharing their messages. CHOOSE LIFE one said and had a picture of a baby on it. HOW WILL YOU SPEND ETERNITY? Asked another. Later, I would see one that read “GO TO CHURCH OR THE DEVIL’S GONNA GET YOU” and it featured a large red Satan holding a scythe. I pulled off at a large truck stop near a city called Meridian in Mississippi. I milled about for a while, looking for Southern artifacts. I saw a small area that sold T-shirts and keychains that had Mississippi flags on them and these looked like Confederate flags to me. There was a table with a couple of metal canisters with ladles sticking out of them and a sign reading “Boiled Peanuts”. I had never heard of such a thing. I peeked inside and the canister was full of slimy looking peanuts with the shells still on them, simmering in a brown liquid. Yuck. There was a fast food restaurant connected to the truck stop and the day after post drunken binge cravings were hitting me hard all of a sudden, so I ordered a greasy cheeseburger and fries. I sat towards the back of the restaurant. Maybe it was the hangover effects or maybe it was because I was in the South, but I was feeling paranoid and anxious. A big burly looking guy in a plaid shirt and a truckers cap shuffled into the fast food area, carrying a styrofoam cup full of the boiled peanuts and a plastic bag. His neck was thick and stubbled and his gut rested up against the table as he sat in a booth. He sat the peanuts down and looked at them for a long time. From the bag he pulled out a box of Benadryl and ripped it open, punching every single little pink pill out of the blister packet and onto the table. Soon, he had a small pile of pink pills as he swept the trash from the packaging aside. Next, he procured two plastic cylinders from the plastic sack and sat them next to the pills. I watched in bewilderment as he began to pick at the boiled soft peanut husks with his stubby fingers and squeeze out the nuts within. He placed these back in the styrofoam cup and tossed the dessicated shells onto the table. I watched this bizarre ritual for a while until he had shelled the entire container. The Goddam South, I thought, shaking my head. What a freak. He pinched a handful of the benadryl tablets and dry swallowed them. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. He looked back down at the peanuts for a long time, psyching himself up. He then slid his fingers in, pulled out some peanuts, and then shoveled them into his mouth. He did it again and again, until his mouth was full, and his jaw worked and worked. What in the Dixieland fuck? I thought. He got the first mouthful down, gasped for air, and then shoved another handful into his mouth. At the top of his hairy chest I could see pink splotches starting to spread upwards and across his neck like expanding enemy territories on a map. Putting another cache of nuts into his mouth, he picked up one of the plastic cylinders off the table, flicked off a cap, and shoved it right into his arm. Through his shirt and everything. An epipen. Holy shit, this guy’s allergic! What is he thinking? The invading splotches on his skin had advanced across the stubbled territory of his neck and over the crest of his jaw line. His lips had begun to swell and bits of chewed peanut flecked his cheeks and chin, yet he still continued eating and eating. He jabbed another epipen into his arm while he was still able to see, for his eyes were now almost swollen shut, the sockets inflated with fleshy bags that formed cracks where his eyes should have been. He was huffing and puffing for air, a loud whistling wheeze that could be heard from across the room. Drool ran down his chin and neck and his eyes watered. Yet, still he chewed. Still he consumed. Still he swallowed. “Hey man, whatchoo doing? ” a bystander asked him. “You’s havin’ a reaction to them. ” The bystander reached for the peanuts, but the anaphylactic man swatted him away, his face a bloated and hideous mask with slits for eyes. He tipped the styrofoam cup back towards his swollen head and dumped the remaining peanuts down his desperate maw, chewed and collapsed onto the floor. “Ayy yo, somebody call an ambulance! ” The bystander yelled. I could still hear the man’s whistling wheeze, still could see his fat stomach rising and falling, and I thought I have got to get the hell outta here. ### I had to ask Trevor, did the guy die? He tells me he doesn’t know for sure, that he watched paramedics arrive and successfully intubate the man with the anaphylactic reaction and haul him away. He continued with his story. I arrived in Birmingham without further incident. That whole episode had frightened and disgusted me and I kept replaying it in my mind for the rest of my journey. I wasn’t used to seeing that sort of shit. Were Southerners so dumb they thought they could just eat something they were allergic to and not suffer any repercussions? Tyler lived in a revitalized urban area near downtown Birmingham. It seemed like an area that was an imitation of the trends that had started in bigger and hipper cities. There were hipster bars with craft cocktails, microbreweries, cool little restaurants, murals, and public art. I was actually surprised by it all. “You made it! ” he said when he answered the door. His apartment was nice and spacious. His girlfriend, Diane, had yet to arrive. “Barely. ” I responded. We sat for a while, drinking IPAs from cans, catching up. “So I guess this little neighborhood is pretty cool, ” I said. “Didn’t know they had anything like that down here. ” “Yeah, it’s really up and coming. This beer you’re drinking is from one of the local breweries. ” He seemed impressed by this and it was kind of depressing. We had more local microbreweries out on the coast per capita than just about anywhere. I spent weekends trying to discover them all, from Seattle to Bend, Oregon. In a couple years he’d be telling me excitedly about the local dispensaries that they had down here. I cleared my throat. I figured now was the time to talk some sense into him, not while Diane was around. “Is it like really racist here? How do you deal with it all? I mean I’ve been on Twitter a lot, reading the political headlines and I’m starting to think we should just expel this entire south eastern region. They’re dragging us down, man. All out tax dollars on the coasts helps these people and their hate out. ” “Trevor, it’s like any other place. Do you know that Oregon drafted a state constitution banning black people? I’m sure there’s racists and stuff around here, but I don’t really see any of it. As far as the red state stuff goes, do you understand gerrymandering? Voter suppression? The south east has a large black population, more cities that are majority African American than anywhere. Are just gonna expel them, too? I don’t know about you, but that sounds a little racist. ” “I dunno man, driving up here, it’s like the buckle of the bible belt. I think I’m going to hell now, by the way. ” “Just relax with all this political stuff. Quit trying to be so woke and right the world’s wrongs from your phone while you’re not really doing much else. Unplug from social media and Twitter and all of that. Start living in the real world for a change. Let’s have some fun this week. Miss ya bud, ” he said and gave my trapezius a stiff squeeze. “I've been off social media for a bit. There’s this thing the tech dudes are all doing called a dopamine fast. It involves getting off of that stuff periodically so your reward centers in your brain can reset and recharge. I haven’t seen pictures of you and Diane, yet by the way, because of the fast. ” “Welp, she should be up here shortly. ” She arrived and I must say that he had done well for himself. She was stunning and had a laid back personality and made me relaxed. I only had one main concern and it had to do with where he lived and who she was. She was black. ### I asked Trevor why that bothered him. He responded that he was “worried about prejudice and stuff” and that Tyler had “never dated anyone like that before. ” Anyone like what? “You know, like a person of color, or whatever. ” When I asked him if he could expound further on these concerns, he really couldn’t. He continued on. The visit went well for the next few days. Tyler and Diane were gracious hosts and I learned a little bit about Southern hospitality from Diane, who had been born and raised in Atlanta. They showed me the sights of Birmingham and we ate a lot of that good southern cooking. Everyone in town seemed really friendly, too. I must admit that I was starting to reverse my stance on the South. It didn’t seem like a half bad place after all. But then I would scroll through news stories in the morning about the sad state of affairs our country was in and I couldn’t help but blame the legislators and senators in this part of the country and the people that voted for them. I would get this feeling that I was in the wrong place and get the urge to get the hell out of here. Tyler and I had a bit of a guy’s night out on what was to be my last night in town. We went to a neighborhood called Five Points South and spent the night hopping from bar to bar. If you didn’t focus too much, you could be anywhere. Only thing different was the accents, and even those weren’t too bad. As the night wore on, we were feeling better and better and having more and more of a good time. We snuck into a back alley, behind this dumpster, where Tyler magically procured a spliff. “Look at you! Where did you get that? ” I asked with drunken glee. “I have my ways. ” He lit it and we took turns taking hits. It was such a good night. A sudden melancholy fell over me. These nights were no longer the norm. From here on out we’d see each other less and less and less. I felt grief and anger welling up from somewhere deep within. Tyler was laughing at something he had just said and I felt a strong urge to lash out. "Man what a night, eh? Too bad these are gonna be few and far between from here on out. It was nice knowing ya. " "Aw man, we'll still see each other. How about Diane and I fly out and visit you in Portland? " “It won’t be the same, ” I mumbled. I was quiet for a while--we both were— and stared at the dirty ground, lit orange by streetlights. I started getting more upset. “We’re never gonna be able to just fuck off and go to Thailand or whatever. Burning Man. You’re gonna be down here, getting all established with your job and your girlfriend and next thing you know you’re married to your token black girlfriend and having little half-and—” An impact flashed across my jaw and my head jerked and I was sent stumbling. I would feel the pain later, but right now I was sinking. I hit the ground and lay there, dizzy and everything out of focus. “Fuck you, ” I heard Tyler say from somewhere above me. I didn’t get up. *** I stayed on the ground for a long time, feeling sorry for myself. Why not just stay down here forever? No one would care. I got bored after a while and got up and brushed myself off and realized my phone was completely dead. I staggered out into the street. Maybe I could borrow someone’s phone and hail an uber. I had a little bit of cash. Out on the sidewalk a group of black guys were walking my way, talking loudly and laughing it up. I got a bad vibe from them, so I quickly hurried across the street and headed in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to add being mugged to the night’s insults. I found a late night donut shop where I ordered some coffee and was able to charge my phone. Between the joint, the coffee, the water and being punched in the face by my best friend, I was feeling more sober than I ever had in my life. I decided right then and there that I was leaving and after my phone charged enough I hailed an Uber to my hotel, got my things and hit the road. I was heading east to Atlanta, where I had a direct flight back to Portland. I was heading east on I-20. It was about 415 in the morning. I was letting my phone charge and the XM radio was barely audible. A voice began to speak with utmost clarity, almost like someone was sitting in the passenger seat talking to me. It was the radio, the broadcast that people have been telling you about. Goooood mornin’ folks! I’m Buck Hensley and I’m here with another episode of “The Rules of the Road. ” Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten, look away! Look away. I don’t remember how the rest of that fucking song goes, but boy do I wish that I was in the land of cotton. Carla and I took a little tour of the region back in the day. That southern heat sure was sultry and the windows were down while our sweaty legs stuck to the vinyl seats as we cruised down gravel roads past fields of ubiquitous chirping of cicadas filled the air, soon to be joined by a chorus of frogs in the waning evening light. It was just downright beautiful. But a kind of sad beauty, you know? Carla must’ve thought so too as the tears streamed down her face all the while she kept smiling and smiling. I asked her what was wrong, but she didn’t have to tell me. We both knew. Speaking of that dixie song, did ya’ll know it from minstrel shows? A bunch of white folk dressed up as black people, wearing blackface and everything. It was even one of Abraham Lincoln’s favorite songs. Ain’t that something? Speaking of blackface, I feel like I’m wearing white face myself these a pale imitation at that. I may have to go fetch me a new one. This one’s getting a little torn around the edges. But I digress. Alrighty, on to tonight’s rule, if at any point during your journey you pull over at a gas station or convenience store or vegetable stand or whatever and you see that they have boiled peanuts for sale, then you must buy them. Ladle up a big ol heapin cup or bowl full of them delicious goobers, pay for ‘em, and eat them right there on sight. I promise I won’t be too jealous. Trevor tells me that this was a sudden revelation to him and he thought of the man he had seen at the truck stop. An eerie feeling came over him. He continued listening. Before you go off in a tizzy, I know what you’re gonna say. You’re gonna say, “Buck! I ain’t eatin’ no dang roadside boiled peanuts. I like my peanuts honey roasted and floatin’ in my Coke bottle. Who ever heard of boiling peanuts? Nuts are supposed to be hot and roasted and saltier than my girlfriend’s attitude. My mama made me chicken strips and hot dogs every night of my life and I’m afraid to try any sort of new food. I’m afraid it might come up and bite me or taste yucky. ” And to that I say, “Fair enough. ” But you might wanna pinch your nose and go ahead and swallow those tasty legumes down. For if you don’t follow this rule of the road, then you are in for a rude awakening. A slow and creepy crawling terror might just befall you. Watch your back and don’t get too settled for too long, because it might just slowly choke you out. Welp, that’s all I’ve got for tonight. The sun’s about to come up and I’ve gotta get a move on. I’ve got so many other faces to meet and places to see and folks to inform. Ya’ll stay safe out there. Stay alert. Stay lively. Stay lonely. I’m Buck Hensley, and these are “The Rules of the Road. ” “That was weird, ” I said to myself. Did that trucker back in Mississippi hear this broadcast? He must have. Why else would he have done that to himself, knowing that he had a nut allergy? How gullible and stupid could you get? The warning seemed vague. Even if he did believe it, wouldn’t he have much rather taken his chances? I was almost to the airport and needed to fill up the rental car before I turned it back in. Sure enough, at the first gas station I stopped at they had boiled peanuts for sale. I considered the broadcast and the rule I was given. There was no reason for me to believe this, but a little good luck couldn’t hurt. I opened a crockpot full of peanuts and ladled one into a napkin. I wanted to try it first. I peeled it out of its shell and popped them in my mouth. It tasted like some sort of bean. I spit it out. “Fuck the south, ” I muttered to myself and left the gas station. *** My flight out of Atlanta was cancelled. Something mechanical, they said. The airline comped me a room. Before I left the boarding area I overheard some flight attendants and a pilot talking about the issue. “Really? That’s the strangest thing. ” “Yeah, it was wrapped all up in both engines. And that’s not the strangest part. It was all over the landing gear, climbing up the side and into the engine. Must be some sort of sabotage, I guess. How else can you explain it? ” I looked out the window at the plane I was supposed to board, but I couldn’t make out what they were talking about, just something green hanging from the jet engine. *** " So yeah, I’m holed up in this shitty hotel, killing time and waiting for my flight. It leaves out at tomorrow afternoon. I got to Googling “The Rules of the Road” and to see if it was some sort of regional radio program or what, and that’s where I found your website and your call for those that encountered the broadcast. That’s really all I have. I didn’t follow the rules. I must admit that it did make me a little paranoid reading about the encounters on your website, haha. So, you’re behind this whole thing, huh? " I tell Trevor that no, I’m not behind it. I don’t know if he believes it. He asks me if this is some sort of ARG game, what company I work for. I tell him, not that as far as I know, the rules are very, very rule. I then ask him if he is pulling one over on me. He asks, are they going to make a movie about this? We ask each other more similar questions and then end the call. I’m worried about him. He may be a douchebag and a hypocrite, prone to a strange overcompensation, but I am worried about him. The rules don’t fuck around. Do douchebags realize that they’re douchebags? Are they aware of their behavior and its negativity? Maybe not in the moment, but after a period of self-reflection do they ever look back with regret? *** He calls the next morning, frantic. “Okay, so this is all a big joke, right? The cameras are gonna burst in at any moment and we’re all gonna have a big laugh. Did Tyler put you up to this? To teach me a lesson? ” I’m groggy. “Is this Trevor? What’s going on? ” “QUIT FUCKING WITH ME, MAN! ” “Trevor, just calm down. Tell me what’s happening. ” “I woke up and there were all of these, like vines. They were covering my entire body, my legs and arms and round my neck and everything. One was starting to go down my throat. ” “I had nothing to do with this, Trevor. It’s the goddam rules. They are real. I follow the ones I’ve heard. Where are you now? ” “I’m in the motel bathroom. I managed to yank most of them off of me, but one is still around my ankle and it’s on there really tight. They’re starting to move under the door. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. ” “Can you like call 911? Give them your location? If I was a prank show, I swear I wouldn’t have you do that. ” I hear him take a deep breath. “Okay, okay, okay. ” I continue to reassure him. I tell him that I will have my phone by me and for him to please call me back. After a very long five minutes, my phone rings. “They say they’re on their way. They didn’t sound like they believed me. So I told them I had killed somebody in my room and that I was going to kill more. That got their attention. Fuck, I’m so scared. ” His voice was growing more high pitched and manic. “SHIT! My fucking ankle’s bleeding! Holy shit, I can see the bone! ” “Trevor! Stay with me! ” “Oh God, there’s so many vines in here. It’s kudzu. That’s what it is. It takes over! ” He began to laugh hysterically and hyperventilate. I could hear the clang of a toilet tank lid. I could imagine him standing on it, the vine wrapped tight around his ankle, blood running down the porcelain, greenery advancing upon him and wrapping around whatever limb or part of his body it could find. “The shower rod! Whack them with the shower rod! ” Over the phone I could hear rustling and clanging and him hollering and screaming. “Oh god, they’re up my leg! Call Buck Hensley! I’m begging you. Please, please please. ” “Trevor, I can’t. Just…” I didn’t know what to say. The rustling grew louder and I could only hear him mumbling to himself, prayers and apologies to gods and people unknown. Then, there was a sudden scream, a loud bang, and nothing. I called his name again and again, but there was no response. Silence. *** “We found him out back, by the dumpster. In the brush and weeds. He was deceased. ” The authorities had found his cellphone in the hotel room and had contacted the last number that was called. “Detective, can you tell me how he died? You can be blunt. ” “Right now, I only have a couple of ideas. His right leg was missing below the knee, just torn off real messily, but it’s weird. It didn’t look like he bled out because whoever did this had wrapped a tourniquet on that thigh, preventing the massive blood loss that would normally cause shock in that situation. ” “Hmm, ” was all I could say. “So, that’s a possibility. But he had ligature marks around his neck, all made with vines. So he may have died from strangulation. But there were also vines in his mouth, down his throat, and in his abdominal cavity. One of the strangest things I ever saw. His whole body, just covered with vines, the silhouette of a person just out there in the landscape like a goddam art project. ” “I.. I don’t.. ” I could only stammer. “Where did you say you were from? ” I told him. “Well, we’ll be in touch. Right now we suspect some type of sicko ritual murder. The killer called us from his phone, so he likely had his time with him all night before the call. We haven’t even found his leg. So our best guess is that he had his way with this poor guy, wrapped him up in vines and shoved them in every possible place and orifice he could, and then presented him. Maybe it was this Buck Hensley fella. Whatever it is, it was like he was trying to make some kind of statement. ” I told him that I would help them in any way that I could. But I knew that there was nothing that they would be able to uncover that would make sense of this whole awful mess. Not unless the Atlanta PD had supernatural connections. “It’s a weird coincidence. They grounded a plane out at Hartsfield just yesterday. Had vines all wrapped up in the landing gear and both engines. Kudzu. They’d never seen anything like it. ” ~~~[ll].
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