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Your body shudders in an instinctive chill, and you see with mounting dread the list of the works foul contents. The bizarre codes make the author's derangements even more pathetically obvious. Perhaps the only blessing is that the tome is so small. You run your fingers down the mad list, praying for the strength to see you through this ordeal:
Oddly, a section at the back smells of SPiced hAM....
There Can Be Only One [R.5][Challenge] First Night [R.5][HaMfic] A Typical Day at the Japanese IRS, Nerima Division [R.5][HaMfic] A New Hero [SM][1970s] The last page consists of a list of mad ramblings. As you cast your eyes on the blasphemous scribbles, you again rejoice that this poor, demented soul apparently lacks the discipline to bring about all of his twisted ides. Still, you cannot fully repress the shudder that overtakes you when you contemplate what he is considering in the future:
What it means.... (Bell-chan and Sisters as mortals) The Diary: Why does everyone always seem to assume that the late Mrs. Tendou was such a saint? The Beanie Wars, or, The Leveling of America Of course, you could always set this book down and turn your eyes back to the East Window's light. Indeed, few would blame you if you were to cast the book aside and run, screaming, back to the Lab, proper.
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