Mascots by Michael A. Dyer

It’s not every day you get to witness your best friend’s head being ripped off at the shoulders, but then again, you don’t always have a two-thousand year old bloodthirsty goddess of war stalking you around the back yard either. As we frantically scattered in terror from the ten armed beast charging at us in primal fury, I took refuge in the only available sanctuary which might provide a barrier between us and the rampaging teeth and claws of our would be killer.

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