The Camper wasn't just Sam.
That email is from J. LaBrie.
The Doors surround me in their elegance, crying out to me with their incomprehensibly complex progressions. I can hear Nathan calling out to me to say "Hellay."
It's time to choose. Is my soul my own, or does it belong to these goddamn "Camper" cultists with their organized crime?
The police still haven't gotten back to me.
To quote Mike Portnoy reciting John Petrucci's lyrics in "In the Presence of Enemies," It's time for your reckoning.
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