“Why do you kill me, hwwww?” wheezed the peanut shaped flattie cop to Marion Harding. Sometimes he had these kind of visions up here in Capitol City’s giant tree: all alone and high as a kite. “Over,” wheezed the cop figure, also smoking, “and over… and over and over and over and over, hwwww?” He paused. “I mean, am I still alive? Because I think I’m falling from this tree.” Pause, then another laughy wheeze.
“Then he falls out of the tree?” Philip concurrently reads down on the ground in Raven Annex. “What the hell’s bells does that mean?”