When I was a Youth Gone Wild at the tender age of nineteen I hung with kids younger than me, very likely because I was just as dumb as I was smart. My immaturity and street smarts aligned me with troublemakers who were well aware that they had to fit in all their crime sprees before their eighteenth birthday. As for me, I’d already made bad choices a habit and decided I could make it a lifestyle or career. Where is this going? I remember going with one of my sixteen year old friends to a tattoo parlor on his birthday to get the band Biohazard’s logo on his arm. When I first read of Bastian’s mark I had this brief flashback to this dive tattoo parlor on Main St. in Dunmore, PA and this kid, who looked like a strange combination of Beavis and blind mole, getting inked up and I was hearing the State of the World Address softly playing in the wind. Then it all went away and I was like, “Mmmmm… Bastain can do what, how, and who? Magical colors in a rainbow of Skittles good feeling colors that feed him, when he is doing me? Where is this paranormal application for undead, dead, necro-somethin’ somethin’. yum yum, lovin’ nom noms? I am in like Flynn. I have no idea what that saying means, but I mean it in the spirit of the definition as I understand it.

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