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The adventures of supernatural private investigator, Dylan Dog, who seeks out the monsters of the Louisiana bayou in his signature red shirt, black jacket, and blue jeans.
Marcus: So, what's the plan? Dylan Dog: No plan. Just bigger guns.
Vargas: The human race is obsolete, y'all.
Marcus: I guess we could just talk about the location of the flesh-eating zombie when you guys are done boning.
Dylan Dog: See? That's just what this case needed. A seven-foot tall, flesh-eating zombie. Which begs the question, are there any actual people left in New Orleans?
Marcus: Oh, my God! What's wrong with my arm? Dylan, what's wrong with my arm? What happened? Dylan Dog: Relax. It's a loaner. Marcus: A loaner? Dylan Dog: Yes. They were out of Caucasian in your size.
Marcus: If I had another arm right now, I would hug you.