"…and she made a poisoned, poisoned apple. From the outside it was beautiful, white with red cheeks, and anyone who saw it would want it. But anyone who might eat a little piece of it would die."

Brothers Grimm "Little Snow-White"


Being your stereotypical teenager prone to random bouts of depression, I've sometimes thought about how I would die. To be honest, I did envision a scenario that was somewhat similar to this, although in my imagination I came out a lot less stupid. I thought it would be a pretty heroic way to die, you know-altruism and all that-but now I'm just really wishing that I had never moved to Utensils. I know I should probably say some proverbial stuff here, but I'm practically wetting my pants right now-how can you expect me to think rationally?!

My soon-to-be murderer gave me an ominous, you're-about-to-die smile. And the life-flashing-before-very-my-eyes thing hadn't even kicked in yet. Oh, fuck.