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By Hook or By Crook

By Hook or By Crook

After They murdered my family, they put me to work.

It took me a little while to bed into it, but eventually, I was the bees fucking knees. See the way I approach a job like that is I take some time at the start to survey my surroundings. I need to know what I’m working with, right? And once I see that, and the data is all in my head. Quids in. I get it. And then I execute it to perfection.

That’s just the way shit goes with me.

What did They make me do? You’re expecting me to say they had me scrubbing shit from toilets or something. I can feel it. But no, what they did was they put me in a boring beige poncho and stuck me in a field, then they gave me a crook. At first the crook felt like an alien being, grafted to me against my will, but soon it became part of me.

I was tasked as a Shepherd, tending my own little flock.

At first, the sheep were all over the fucking place. I didn’t understand them, you see. So I watched them. There was the sheep who needed to be the centre of attention (I called him Luke). There was the sheep who was always one step ahead (I called him Simon). You know, all these sheep had their own personalities, and I learned them all. And then one day it all just clicked. I felt like I got it all, and the sheep fell in line, in fear of being yanked by the neck with my trusty crook.

For the particularly tricky sheep, a trio who tried to run me off a cliff, I had my trusty sidekick, my collie dog, Rainbow, who made sure the black sheep couldn’t ruin it for everyone else.

But little did those poor sheep know that They had tasked me to tend them only to be carved up for fucking food. So one fateful day, deep in the throes of our town’s famine, I led those sheep to slaughter. Each one died a quick death. And the town’s hunger was so great that, even though I didn’t want to, Rainbow had to be sacrificed too.

I stand here, in OSW, with that same fucking pattern in front of me. I’ve been here long enough to survey the lay of the ground, and I know where the problems are. The black sheep have been brought under control thanks to my Rainbow friends, and now I must lead these sheep to their own sticky demise, to be ground up into minced meat to satiate a hunger so great. But not the hunger of a town. Just the hunger of one fucking alien.

Vigour.

And my hunger is so great that I won’t hesitate to sacrifice even my trusty Rainbow sidekicks if it comes to it. Even though I don’t fucking want to.

But now I must once again execute the job to perfection. Like always.

Blood will spill, and by hook or by fucking crook I’ll make sure I’m the one spilling it.