Pamela K. Kinney: A Life of Passionate Writing and Historical Insight

I guess. I don’t look at my calendar to check if it’s that time of the month. You know, is it a full moon, or is it a waxing crescent?

With the apocalypse ended, Connor and I could have explored our connection further. Other couples had met under weird circumstances before. Okay, most people didn’t have an apocalypse to start a relationship.

Larry bleated like a sheep and threw himself against the TV screen. After several repeated attempts at solericide, he dropped senseless to the floor.

He's like a gecko on crack if he thinks that.

His form began to short circuit like a television picture going out of sync. Suddenly, where a small man had stood, a gigantic dog with three heads towered over me. I dropped the staff and stumbled backwards. Cerberus looked like a poodle gone wrong. Wow, that's one ugly, pink poodle.

A large lantern appeared in one of Charun's hands. It glowed, illuminating him, me, and the immediate area. I saw him all the better for it, a tall rangy man, dressed in black jeans and a black and red plaid western shirt. He also wore snakeskin cowboy boots. Never had I imagined Charun, the Ferryman of the River Styx, dressed like that. He should be riding off into the sunset; not ferrying souls to the Elysian Fields.

Now it looked like I would become Purina monster chow for some demonic creature and the world would be destroyed. My life sucked. I'd give anything to have my boring old existence back.

I guess. I don't look at my calendar to check if it's that time of the month. You know, is it a full moon, or is it a waxing crescent?

At age thirty-three my life was boring. Then the vortex opened.

He's seen Larry. This won't be good.