You shouldn't ask me for advice.

So, it's snowing in Houston right now, and a friend just called me and asked me to talk her into getting a Greyhound ticket to visit family for the holidays. Instead, I tell her about the guy who got his head cut off by a (supposedly) Wendigo-possessed madman on the bus in Canada last summer.

I am a bad friend. Possibly also a bad person.

And now I'm afraid that the Wendigo might travel south. It likes snow.