"On came the demon-god, making a horrible plopping sound as he walked.

"Very close now. And very clear now as he folded out of darkness.

"The God of the Razor was tall, black -- not Negro, but black -- with shattered starlight eyes and teeth like thirty-two polished silver stickpins. He had on a top hat that winked of chrome razor blades molded into a bright hat band. His coat was the skinned flesh of an ancient Aztec warrior, and his pants were the same. Raw, bloody fingers stuck out of his pants pocket likes stashed after-dinner treats, and the Darkside Clock, which was an enormous pocket watch, dangled from a strand of gut attached to the God's vest pocket -- a pocket that was once the fleshy slit that housed an eye. The shoes he wore were the ragged heads of guillotined Frenchmen from a long dead revolution.

"And the God's fingernails were not nails at all, but razor blades. He kept rubbing them together as he walked, making them click and pop up sparks."