Stone couldn’t sleep a wink as every chirp, every rustling in the branches or on the ground sent surges of adrenaline into his system in quantities that could be bottled. Stone was annoyed to see that after about half an hour of growling and making general bestial noises from the far side of the tree the dog fell sound asleep. With his four legs draped over the branch, a good sixteen feet off the ground, the pit bull looked to Stone’s fatigued eyes like nothing less than some mutant sloth, a genetic experiment that had gone terribly awry. With the taste of rotting fish on his lips, his ass freezing from the cold night, his leg burning with an electric fire, and assorted other complaints too numerous to list, Stone had just about had it. His brain felt as if it was ready to erupt into spouting pink tissue from the events of the last twelve hours. He felt that he was in the front car on the Cyclone roller coaster at Coney Island, only he just kept going down. At last as the sun began painting the ribbon of sky above the towering ridges of rock a dim blue, Stone allowed himself to feel just a trace of hope.
What do You think about The Cutthroat Cannibals (2009)?
