OK, so… we are goign to be eaten. Devoured. Swallowed whole in bits. Really, whole or bits? Does it matter? Really, whole or bits? Does it matter? Bottom line: EATEN.
‘Cause, see that train-sized beast behind us? It’s not a train. It’s a humongo worm monster.
The Wormungulous.
I cough into my hand and say, “Hey, Quint. Is it true, what was on the news those first few days? That the monsters and zombies came to the East Coast first? So everyone went west, and out there the army was, like, prepared to stop them?”