Tale of Terror 3

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It was a stormy and dark night. Wolves howled. Bats flapped. Uncannily reconstituted hulks of man-flesh clutched at metal bolts driven into their necks and muttered, 'what the fuck's all this crap?' And Evil Editor sat on the edge of his bed, teasing fluff from his navel with a pencil.

Blackened whorls of foulness popped onto the duvet: hair, gunge, compacted cockroaches, and a bent dime from 1971.

Then — a snake's head!

Spit...