I hope you are fucking happy now, all of you. Glenda and your holier than thou attitude, for your sake I hope you're right. Fuck you Art, I'm sorry that came out wrong, Fuck you Mayor Arthur Dinar, your pompous arselicking excuse of a man. Your literal job is to keep this town safe, fucking bungled that didn't you? You know what? Years. I've helped you for years. Art in particular but all of you. Glenda with her unwanted pregnancies from men who is not Terry. Terry and his own problems from the same general exercise. Viktor and Tam would have had 3 small sad graves instead of the helions you now try to raise if it wasn't for me.

I could go on! I spent fucking years helping you all. And when I told you it wasn't a good idea at all to go along with Art's and Glenda's idea that the fucking plague could be prayed away when I told you I have a god damn cure for it?

Yes I know mold tastes bad but it's better than dying innit? So. Yay. Half the town is dead because, Glenda, gathering everyone in a small cosy temple and having them breathing and touching each other is a collosally fucked idea for beating the fucking plague.

We could all have stood here. Jim and his family. Amber and her's. Little Sam who looked up to you Art. Fucking hurt's doesn't it? I could have saved them...

But they listen to you. And you will live with that pain for the rest of your lives.

And so will I...