Stephen Colbert and Stephen King holding hands in matching sweaters.
This is a match made in heaven. But, soon, the celestial light gave way to a creeping inky darkness festooned with the howls of lost souls. Colbert’s eyes cast a gaze skyward, his hands still in the cold, clammy grasp of Mr. King who was now smiling. His teeth began to form cragged points, his wiry hair fell from his head in patches like autumn leaves in a graveyard; lifeless. Colbert wanted to scream but the cold air enveloped and wrapped him with the force of an arctic boa constrictor.
Tears welled in his eyes but soon froze them open, forced to consume the sight of Mr. King become a monster. In the distance, a wolf howled.