Marion Harding sees those red and greenish lights above him again, but in a different location.
And he’s wasted as hell from the pot recently purchased from drug lord Santa God at The Octopus Ink.
“Who *are* you guys??”
“So we need to talk, Harry,” spoke Tonya Two Egg to the bleached face man sitting across from her. “About Annie. About a lot of stuff.”
“It’s not safe here,” he replied, then glances over at the giant bong to his right.