It’s damn hot. I can’t look at the stinking corpse of Saul Blatter anymore. Maggots are crawling out of Saul’s dead, open eyes. Maggots, for gods sakes!
I’m squatting four feet away, having just thrown up. I take my freshly lit cigarette and melt an ant. Might as well torture another creature to get my mind off of what I imagine has happened to poor old Saul here—