"I'm a moonlit, hooded figure," said the eerie newcomer In a voice as parched as sand.
"Now, just hold on here," shouted MacKenzie. "That seems a bit redundant."
"Damn multiple authors," muttered Joe.
The band had just reached the bass drum part of The Exorcist theme. The smell of stale beer wafted through the pub. There was a scratchy silence, Tension built. Sentences got shorter.
Suddenly, the moonlit, hooded figure tore off his moonlit hood, revealing the most surprising plot turn yet.
Bella gasped. MacKenzie almost swallowed his pipe. Nick's death-rattle rose an octave. Sly's bosom heaved. So did the Frenchman.
"Impossible!" screamed the Red-Head.
"Yes," smiled the old, bearded man at the bar. "To continue this would seem so."