But you don't just see a severed head every day, especially one which talks. And the severed head in the corner is starting to make a lot of sense.
I don't necessarily think it has our best interests at heart, mind you. After all, when it told us we would watch each other die one by one through the night, it laughed a bit, like that sort of thing was amusing. So it's not a friend. And even though it's Steve's head, I don't recall Steve ever speaking with that kind of stilted diction, as if he came from an earlier century. Still maybe the severed head knows something we don't.
Steve was always the sensible one, though he was a bit of a wet blanket. And I like to think if Steve's head were inhabited by some kind of undead hell-creature that made it cackle with glee as its eyes rolled in its sockets... it still might have Steve's practical attitude somewhere in there. I believe maybe we should listen to it and "flee from the opening of the Underworld."
There's another side, of course. Some things we might never learn if we leave now. Like, where did the rest of Steve's body go? And just who or what is making that sound like the giggling of a dozen children upstairs? I like solving a good mystery as much as the next guy. Every day you learn something, right? Still, I've gotta go with the head here. Seems like the smart play.
Especially now that the pus is coming out of it, and it has become bathed in unholy light from an unknown source. Yep. That's one sharp noggin'. Good advice.
Let's go ahead and get the fuck out now.