Excerpt: Dead Wrong

“Is that Dan Sherbert?” He gestures to the small crowd gathered around in the camera's field of vision to cheer, and they responded adequately, heads turning and voices rising. The crowd parts to give way for the local star, guiding him to the front despite his dilapidated appearance.

"Dan! What's your opinion of how the Festival of the Spring Equinox is going this year?” he asks animatedly.

Dan looks incredibly unprepared for an interview. His eyes are sunken, and his jaw hangs slack. He looks as though he hasn't changed for a couple of days, and has trekked through some massive vat filled with mud. His eyes, instead of their usual bright blue, seem to be more of a sickly greenish hue, the whites of his eyes looking closer to ivory or even a butter yellow.

"Mmm grrrnm hmnh?” he asks, eyes blank.

“Dan? Can you repeat that? Are you feeling excited about the festival? Stressed? Perplexed as to which of the options to entertain yourself with for the last day of the festival?” says Stan, enthused, tilting the microphone towards Dan. He shakes with a mix of excitement and chills from the wind.

“Mmn grhmn... Hmng.. Grumn rngrnr,” responds Dan, his jaw attempting to form the cheesy smile he was so known for. Failing, his jaw makes a popping sound and simply drops open. “Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr grah,” continues Dan Sherbert.

Onlookers stare at the peculiar sight, and Stan pulls the microphone back and awkwardly looks to the camera, hand tightening around the microphone as thoug it is his only lifeline. At this point, Dan Sherbert's open jaw clamps on his windbreaker-clad shoulder.