Death’s-Head Demon

A well-formed young woman cavorts through a palazzo, wearing nothing but heels, lingerie, and a pair of outsized, feathery wings. At intervals, we cut to a shot of some sort of death’s-head demon, who looks poised to bite into the pretty youth’s skull, perhaps to suck on the marrow of her soul and prolong his undead half-life. Wait � stand by � I’m now being told that this creature is in fact Bob Dylan.

Seth Stephenson