The Journey of an Ou

His portly belly strained against his soiled, floral-patterned shirt, while his face was covered in a tangle of white whiskers like tangled electrical wires. His sparse hair, barely enough to count on one hand, failed to conceal his shiny scalp. Coupled with his textbook-perfect beer gut, this short, stout old man's first impression wasn't exactly charming.,Jack's father yawned, his short, thick fingers waving towards the shelves.,Looking at the three deformed corpses, blood slowly pooled beneath them. There were two streaks on the ground, still emitting a wisp of blue smoke. These were the marks left by Heather's shoes as they scraped against the ground at high speed.。