"You wrote that prophecy." I accused her, narrowing my eyes at her.
"Yes... I did." Can somebody just slap her in the face? "It was my best composition. And that says something, since I'm actually a modest girl. The prophecy about Donald Trump was literally: Be aware of the Cheetos running for president. I was lazy at the time." She shrugged.
***
If you're looking for a hero, turn around and go look somewhere else pal, because this one here ain't one.
And yet again, Angus is dragged into a life that has him so confused with all the monsters trying to adopt him, and ghosts flirting with him and zombie centaurs and prophecies and BLOODY MEDUSA!!! To don't mention that damned parasite soul in him that gets angry when Angus refuses to die. Like seriously?!!!
Always forgetting his sword when running to his death, with his jeans falling off at the worst time possible, the sarcasm that will probably get him killed one day and being the annoying piece of sh-anyway... Angus has to fight against himself and Ancient spirits to get alive out of this mess.
But like the mighty and powerful Doctor Strange once said: "Try me Beyoncé."