The end. That’s what they said, anyway. They were coming for us. Three days. They’d been everywhere else. New York. Boston. Miami. Cleveland. Cleveland? I had hoped they’d skip our sour-smelling stretch of sun-soaked pasture-land, but after I saw what they did to Cleveland, any hope of our little town surviving flew right out the door and into a cow pie.
Wizards. Sorcerers. Witches. Alchemists. All closing in on Chino, CA. I’ve got a shotgun and a bad attitude. Put a little magic in Chino and I’ll put a little lead in your robe, Gandalf.
So, bring it on. Bring the magic and the mayhem. I’ll be waiting with two smoking barrels, a bottle of Jack D., and a spittoon. You want some, Harry Potter? Come get some.