Muse returns from her brief sojourn to Waco to see another ‘client.’
(Apparently She was prepared to try witchcraft on me now–she had ‘tried’ reason–logic–chastisement–nothing seemed to be working. So now, Witchcraft. Good Luck with that, Muse.)
“What have you been doing?” She enquires. “Working On Rhonda-Whatever-The-Fuck Chapter it is supposed to be?”
“Drinking.”
“Yeah, I can see that. And Shitposting On Facebook. Saw that too.”
“I just been ‘pondering’, working up to it.”
“Lance, you are useless. And you are late with my fee. Pay the fuck up.”
“You take expired/maxx’d out credit cards?”
“Go fuck yourself” she said. “Cash only.. I am gonna cast a spell on you. Stand still.”