Ribbon Scrawl was tall and stupid. He was the kind of stupid you find in shuttered slaughterhouses, the kind of stupid you avoid if you’re smart. And you’re smart. Or you thought you were, until you found yourself locked in a shuttered slaughterhouse, its blood-soaked doors chained from the outside. The place, littered with decaying shreds of cow and pig carcasses, proved a bonanza for the hungry rats that caused the health department to close the place. And there you were, trapped inside behind massive, immovable steel doors, your only company Ribbon Scrawl and dozens, maybe hundreds, of rats. It might behoove you to consider how you found yourself in this mess, as that could offer a way out. But it probably won’t. You have nothing better to do, though, other than keep the rats and Ribbon Scrawl at bay, so why not?
The people who chained the doors had nothing against you. It was Ribbon Scrawl they aimed to lock away in the shuttered slaughterhouse. See, Ribbon Scrawl was not only tall and stupid, he was mean and vindictive and about as dangerous as they come. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. When those guys saw a chance to remove what can legitimately be called a demon—in the form of Ribbon Scrawl—from their lives, they took it. You were just a collateral casualty, an acceptable level of sacrifice in the name of civility and justice.
