The Last Act of Defiance

Borrowing the title from an Exodus song (from the album Fabulous Disaster. Thrash metal circa 1989).

Lately I've felt little inclination to interact with the outside world or play about in the online realms. Might be a touch of information overload or a malaise of apathy. Or the fact I've pretty much stopped drinking and that was about the only real inspiration I had for clawing my way up the bodies of enemies and proclaim my greatness and magnificence to the world. Now, if I could be arsed to make the climb, I'd mutter "Fuck off" and take a piss of the edge, and crawl back to my cave. But it seems like too much work.

There's a sense of anticipation all around. The air is thick with worry and all moist. Like the world is waiting for something to happen. Or maybe it's just me waiting for something interesting to rise up, many-tentacled, and chew the corners off reality and shit them into some interesting new form. Yog-sototh and Cthulhu, are you listening?

Just one zombie, that would make it all seem worthwhile. A mad scientiest unleashing a plague of mutant locusts that devour all the nylon in the world and bleed fire from their carapaces. Something. You're fucking killing me here.

Where's a giant radiation-breathing dinosaur stomping down cities when you need 'em?