Lucifer as a cyclops.
Paka brings us gold! And frankincense! And mir! Wait, that's all just confetti. Nevermind.
The man behind the magic. And the man whose pocket was soon to be ablaze.
I had a nagging feeling we were being followed.
Madeline's bedroom window.
Her life is a constant game of cat and mouse with BB-gun snipers.
Lopaka discovered the sparkler and decided to swordfight with the camera.
"If you didn't feed me regularly, I'd bite your hand clean off for putting me in this getup."
The snow beckons to us beyond the..um..splendor of beautiful San Bernardino.
Paka looked as hardcore as a guy with a bright orange condom on his gun could look.
After being eliminated in a short round shooting people with his $1000 paintball gun, Sal liked to quietly weep behind his mask.
Omelet with tobasco sauce.
I envisioned something vastly different when I heard "iLap".
World's least convincing toupee.
Lopaka, his soul already stolen by my other shot, abandons all hope.
