sara edvardsson

I’M QUITE CERTAIN that I am going to die today. If I were a betting man, I’d let it all ride on red—blood red—that I’ll get ripped limb from limb in just a few minutes.

But let’s face it—I’ve been dying a slow death living in this godforsaken hellhole of a town these past several months. I gave up Phoenix with its eternal sunshine, palm trees, and strip malls for this? Do I have regrets? Hell, yeah!

For a brief shining moment, I have to stop and think of how my life has changed by coming to Sporks. How my hopes and dreams have been fulfilled beyond anything I could possibly have imagined. How, you ask? Well, I just saved a bunch of money on my truck insurance by switching to Geico. I kid, I kid.

Back to what’s happening here. Standing before me is a particularly disturbing guy with long, pointy fangs who invited me over for lunch, and I’m the main course. I sure hope he fills up on appetizers.