The knight opened a small metal door in the back of his helmet and felt inside with his bare hand. The back part of his skull was gone and he felt where his brain had melted into a mass the consistency of scrambled eggs. He closed the little door and rehooked the latch, wiping the gooey grey matter from his hand onto the horse blanket. He wondered for a moment if he should be alarmed. Then the drawbridge lowered and he rode into the castle courtyard.

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A small wooden door, dark with old blood stains, opened into a little cubby containing a Tibetan pika. The pika was perfectly round and fuzzy. It peered through the half-open door, located partway up the storage room wall, and trembled slightly as it sniffed the air for predators.

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There were a few at the bar but they were all gunned down by a small green chicken with a human skull-head. Harry and Marty and Leon all lay bleeding as the chicken stood silhouetted in the doorway, pistols smoking, small cowboy hat atop his ivory white skull.

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