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Haunted Chapter EightErik
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I spent the next several days lying in wait in the old warehouse, in what appeared to be a long-abandoned basement.
Despite the familiar comfort of a cellar, I could not tolerate the gray. The room in which I was obliged to sojourn was gray---impersonal, industrial, mechanistic, hideous gray, from the endless maze of pipes that wove across the low ceiling to the crumbling stones set into the wall to the stained concrete floor. Geometrics, stark, uninspired geometrics; not a flourish of art, not a hint beauty. All was graythe loose hospital garments, the low, rumbling sky, the shadows of the maskgray, gray, gray, and I could not escape from it.
One would assume that an individual in my precarious condition would concern himself with matters of greater importance than the heinous architecture and drab color scheme, yet I was fixated upon it. And by God, I could not abide by it. It was sickening.
For I thirsted for beauty, and yet beauty seemed determined
Devil Take the Hindmost: Cliff Notes VersionRaoul: If you think you're going to force my trophy wife into another creepy tryst with you, then you've got another thing coming, buddy.
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Erik: Your wife is an airhead and so I may manipulate her however I please. Also, you are drunk.
Raoul: Yeah? Well, you're ugly.
Erik: You're broke.
Raoul: You're REALLY ugly.
Erik: You have no testicles.
Raoul: Every time I look at you, I throw up in my mouth a little
Erik: Yes, but YOU are broke. I on the other hand, am conveniently and mysteriously wealthy despite the fact that a masked criminal showcasing his madness in such a flamboyantly French way would, under any other circumstances, attract the attention of the NYPD, who would, in turn, seize his assets and toss him in the loony bin. But alas, I am wealthy, and you are not. This puts me in a convenient position to further this turd of a plot by making a bet with you that could potentially resolve your debts.
Raoul: Hmm...well, I do like making bets. Because I have no testicles.