Description

"I can hear her coming. A powerful roar from a great distance. , Her craggy pot-marked face smoking, the long tail of fog trailing behind. She will come tumbling toward us like a snowball of fire hurled by a spiteful Santa Claus. Her voice. Not soft and comforting, but a voice dripping with rage. Justice will be served. The planet will sizzle like sirloin. And I shall sit on a park bench at ground zero waiting for St. Nick's smile to fall across my five o'clock stubble. I will wait happily like a blond waits for her tan, like cold tea in a Styrofoam cup, like an accountant queuing up his thoughts. I will taste her sweet justice. And her wrath will fill my lungs with song. Judgment day is coming. Judgment day for the maniacs crowded into the subway system, for the bullies choking the churches, for the meek on Bay Street, for all the malcontents, for the armies of Christ, for every creature that lifts its curious face to the sky."
A mad man is loose and Detective Sam Kelly is on the case.