The world? Hell. Who knows? I mean, who knows what happened to the world? Place's gone all sideways, and who the hell knows?
You ask some, they'll say it was man. Man did it. I guess that makes sense. I mean, lookit all the stuff goin' on 'round here. Got hoverbikes patrolling the DMC—hell, the DMC! Lookit the DMC fer Chrissake! And the black swamp? You bet your ass man turned that stretch of land into the hellhole it is today. We had the tools. We damned sure had the motive. Ya only have to know an ounce a history to know that, man.
But then you got the monsters. Stuff straight outta a damned nightmare. Things look like werewolves, walkin' around up north. Kill ya dead as soon as look atcha. And those scary sonsabitches out west too. Whatever ya call 'em. Gray children. Roaming the woods. Where'd they come from? Sure, it's suspect they showed up 'round about the same time. But no way man just concocted a whole raft a monsters and let 'em loose in Michigan. I mean, right? 's not like we had some sorta monster zoo that just opened its gates. Ha! Monster zoo! Ha ha! Ah...I dunno. But it ain't man who did all that.
Ya ask me, God just had enough of us. I mean, I ain't no bible thumper or nothin'. But ya ask me, somebody upstairs just had his fill, and there ya go: mankind knocked a few dozen rungs down the ladder. Whaddya gonna do about it? That's a better question. I mean, here you are. You're in hell, man. So whaddya gonna do?
What are ya gonna do, man? Are you buyin' somethin'? Or you just wasting my time?
You ask some, they'll say it was man. Man did it. I guess that makes sense. I mean, lookit all the stuff goin' on 'round here. Got hoverbikes patrolling the DMC—hell, the DMC! Lookit the DMC fer Chrissake! And the black swamp? You bet your ass man turned that stretch of land into the hellhole it is today. We had the tools. We damned sure had the motive. Ya only have to know an ounce a history to know that, man.
But then you got the monsters. Stuff straight outta a damned nightmare. Things look like werewolves, walkin' around up north. Kill ya dead as soon as look atcha. And those scary sonsabitches out west too. Whatever ya call 'em. Gray children. Roaming the woods. Where'd they come from? Sure, it's suspect they showed up 'round about the same time. But no way man just concocted a whole raft a monsters and let 'em loose in Michigan. I mean, right? 's not like we had some sorta monster zoo that just opened its gates. Ha! Monster zoo! Ha ha! Ah...I dunno. But it ain't man who did all that.
Ya ask me, God just had enough of us. I mean, I ain't no bible thumper or nothin'. But ya ask me, somebody upstairs just had his fill, and there ya go: mankind knocked a few dozen rungs down the ladder. Whaddya gonna do about it? That's a better question. I mean, here you are. You're in hell, man. So whaddya gonna do?
What are ya gonna do, man? Are you buyin' somethin'? Or you just wasting my time?
—Bernie, Tent City Junk Peddler
