Gimli was mad. Raving foaming frothing mad. He had always been this way. As far back as he could remember. The small enclosed space he pushed on through just increased his boiling black anger. He felt it reverberating through his bones as he wriggled on into the darkness, moving through the air conditioning conduits of the Hotel Sherman Melville. On his way to kill a man. No, not a man, just piece of shit that needed exterminating. That was his get out clause. That got him through the grinding days of his life. He had always been small and had grew up slow and angry. Rejected by girls, bullied at school. He learned how to blow the fuse, very quickly. Joining the army seemed like a great idea. Until he was fucked over by them as well. Pleaded with the recruiter. But got the usual, not up to standard, spiel.…
