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“A man once had a dog.”

“They quickly became the best of friends. Wherever the man went, his loyal companion went with him.”

“They were so close that when the man sat down for dinner, his best friend had a place at the table.”

“But the dog had a bad habit. Every night when the moon would rise, the dog would start to howl.”

“Singing his song of the night, the dog would continue on course all throughout the midnight hours.”

“At first, the man found this to be playful. It brought a smile to his face. In fact, the man even went as far as to sing along to the same tune with the dog in the beginning.”

“But the dog’s old song became tired and flat.”

“No longer would the man sing along in harmony. To him, the dog’s song became overplayed. Where he once connected with the dog, he now found himself to be enjoying quite a different tune.”

“Yet the dog continued to howl throughout the night, causing the man to lose sleep. Tossing and turning in bed, the man knew something had to be done.”

“And on that night, he groggily rolled out of bed in a fury. He rushed outside and grabbed the dog by the nape of the neck and drug it over to the concrete walkway. In one quick motion, the man brutally stomped the dog’s neck, crushing his larynx.”

“The dog’s song never to be heard again.”

“There’s an old dog sitting out back of OSW’s dwelling. His name is El Mariachi Muerte.”

“At first, the two of us seemed to have bonded. Just as a lost pup, he seemed to follow me everywhere I went.”

“When I sat down at the dinner table, I invited him to join me in The Gallery.”

“And as the moon rose above the horizon, he began to sing his song of death.”

“It was pleasing, at first. It seemed to appeal to my better nature.”

“It was a song that I could sing along with. We could harmonize together over the same tune week in and week out.”

“But that tune has since soured upon my ears. No longer do I find myself connecting with the lyrics that compose his song.”

“While it may seem that the two of us are cut from the same cloth, it would seem that I am of my own rare breed.”

“And now, when you begin to sing your song.. it’s doing nothing more than keeping me uneasy as I lie resting.”

“This week, I’m rolling out of bed and down that ramp way. I will grab you by the collar and I will crush your larynx just like I did that stupid fucking mutt.”

“No longer shall your song of death interrupt the art that I am working on.”

“No longer will your grim harmonies distract me from painting my masterpiece.”

“Death does in fact come, my friend. But it shall forever come silently.”