“And here we are, at the scene of today’s American Gore Live, set in beautiful downtown Charleston. Charleston, West Virginia, that is,” the male announcer said, his voice overly enthusiastic.
Staring at the blueish glow emanating from my six-point-one inch dynamic AMOLED capacitive touchscreen, I nodded and offered up a sinister smile as I shoved a fistful of popcorn in my mouth. Wiping the resulting grease on my baggy gray sweatpants that exposed bits of hairy shin, I paused to sneer at the smear left by the residual butter now clogging my veins. Then I…
