The Bull is thrilled. For once the big-ass storm is careening elsewhere than directly at his bovine rear, and he doesn’t have to run around plywooding his windows and hiding in safe rooms. This time it’s the other guy who is getting slammed. Maybe it’s wrong to think this way. Maybe the Bull should embrace a more sympathetic view of his fellow creatures’ wellbeing.
Screw that! It’s every mammal for itself. Learn to freaking swim or surf. Or be prepared to be buried in toxic sludge and pig manure. Yes, it is a thing. Check the news on that one.
And speaking of being buried, we have the latest capital delivered by the floor, “Do You Hear the Coffin Bell?”
The Bull is now taking a deep breath, trying to temper his response to this latest “gift” from the floor.
The cap is, well, not to the Bull’s taste. It is, in fact, something that he would cross three highways and take two planes to avoid. It is the kind of faux historical fluff that makes the Bullmeister want to drink to excess and watch Die Hard twenty-seven times to cleanse his brain.
No sir, he did not like it.
A kitten died in the cap to try to sell the plot. A kitten. What did that fictional kitten ever do to the VC?
But seriously, the cap was as fluffy as the dead kitten. There was no substance. Mary was not a convincing, sympathetic character. She wasn’t even a good character to hate. She left no impact on my emotional state whatsoever. I’d rather have read the chronicling of the decaying kitten corpse than about stupid-ass Mary. Screw Mary.
And also screw Percy Bysshe Shelley NOT SHELLY. If you’re going to quote a lame-ass, poser poet, use the correct spelling, unless this was Percy Shelley's less well-known neighbor that often gets his mail by accident. The use of Shelley’s poetry just pissed me off. It felt like filler, pretentious, faux, English Romantic-laden, fluff-plot, crapital filler.
Plus, there was no surprise in the surprise ending. From the first page, it was evident that some foul play was at hand, and it was most likely Mary’s doing.
I will probably burn in hell for this, and no bell will ring to save me. But I hated this cap.
I tried. I wanted to find the positive aspects of this cap and be encouraging, but I failed.
Yeah, I’m having trouble not being the prick that I am in this review, but sometimes you need to let your ass-flag wave free. To me, this is a clear no. It held no charm for me. It lacked everything I love in fiction, mainly a plot.
Maybe someone else will love it. Maybe someone with a she-shed and a cup of tea. Certainly not the likes of me.