. . .

Tom steps forward. He rests his hand on Mr. Loggins’ desk. His voice is strangely pleading.

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Loggins. It’s not wrong of you to be a lump. I don’t want you to think that that’s your fault. It’s just that nobody’s ever made a hat for you. Nobody’s ever infected your DNA with parasitic serpent DNA. Nobody’s ever given you a destiny. It’s not that you’ve failed to transcend humanity. It’s just, you’ve never gotten your chance.”

“This is you projecting,” blusters Mr. Loggins, “is what it is.”

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