Day Seven. Oh, bliss! Bliss and heaven! It was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest spun heaven metal, or like a silvery wine flowing in a spaceship. Just as we had feared our last, like a dark mirage looming forth from the blackest of deserts, Curtis from Necrobiosis arrived in the nick of time baring the sweetest of nectar’s to demon and god alike. Jack Daniels. A large one, no less. Suffice to say, your loyal friend and humble journalist now revived from the brink of doom, lives to drink another day. Thank the Hells, and please pray to His Sulfurousness this never happens again.