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ENDCOMPLETED

I met him at a Greyhound Bus station in Baltimore. "Ground Beef Man," he called himself. The ragged black hoodie that cloaked his hairless flesh was a status symbol amongst the "flies he shepherded," in his words. He told stories that drew and quartered my psyche until it was a martyred corpse. The following one-shot comics are based on what the Ground Beef Man told me on that fateful day...