There once were two sisters, Night and Death,
Death large, and Night small,
Night had the beauty of dreams, while Death,
Death was most lovely of all -

Hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!
Death was most lovely of all.

The city of dreams. I'd gladly kick the balls off the idiot who thought that one up.

Once upon a time, people were talking to graves and nobody batted an eyelid, right?

Another sinner finds himself in the place he belongs to. A trunk.
Gustavo now suffers the purgatory he deserves. And perhaps has a moment to examine his conscience. Let's hope he finds it before the trunk opens back up.

Speaking of harm's way. Know what I see lookin' at you? Walking, talking corpses.