The Warcraft Eye

When it comes to pass that you’re being chased from a crumbling farmhouse by a slavering dead thing that used to be your neighbor, now animated by an unholy carnivorous lust for your brainmeats, it’s only natural to toss the pants and shirts you’re carrying over the other shoulder, peel that nasty pair of ugly pink undies from your head, and ask yourself the big question; just where did it all go wrong?

Fortunately, I know the answer to that question. I chose the exact wrong time to get drunk.