What are “Tumbled Dreams”? These are the posts I made to my tumblr during the week because I felt they did not warrant a separate post on this blog. However, these “interstitials” often explain some of the backstory to the larger dream posts. For those readers that only read Three Different Ways, they may help explain some of the characters and sudden changes in plot and direction.
~~~
Three different crews were sent three times to invade my house to terrorize the inhabitants and steal from us. Twice I merely repelled them, kicking them out empty handed. Once I got tired of the shit, melted into the shadows, and watched.
They were harassing the Regulars which were overwhelmed by the intruders. I pretty much had a house full of old relics and incompetent fools that would shoot off their toe at the first opportunity. The intruders were well armed and just shoved everyone out of the way.
I found I was wearing [redacted] all three times. Thinking it important, I tucked it away and waited for the first fool to come to the back of the house. He was smiling thinking after stripping the house of value, the gang are going to settle down here and make it their new hideout.
The kids in the back room saw me and distracted the scout. One hand grip on his neck, and the scout is down but not destroyed. At the speed of thought, I cleared the house from back to front, merely immobilizing the crew but putting a stop to the invasions. Every one rescued, I found a communicator on the crew’s boss. Their boss was asking if the house was secure yet or was he going to have to send yet another crew. “It’s just a bunch of fading spirits and a new age bitch. If you can’t handle a white-lighter then what fucking good are you?”
When I picked up the communicator I got a flash of a man in his 40s, shoulder length hair starting to recede, covered in drawn markings and sigils. He realized I could see him and shut down the visual component of the link, and muted his end but I could tell he was listening and watching mine.
So I went to each of the fallen invasion crew, starting with the leader, ripped out their heart and ate it. The Regulars made quick work of the rest of the bodies. After eating the last heart, I said, “Yea. White-lighters make for terrible eats. So little muscle and so bland you can’t even flavor a good stew from the bones. How does your flesh taste? Artificially flavored from useless sigils? Or are you worth the hanging in my larder?”
The device was remotely disconnected and fell apart in my hands. I took stock of my family. Still sleeping peacefully. I took stock of the Regulars. I had not noticed the more stronger ones had left. Those still present were feeble.
Time to get shit in order.
~~~
I had hoped to have the full write up on what happened with the djinni merchant done and posted by now. But the day is quickly spiraling into Bullshit-ville, so I better get the summary up now.
The djinni merchant used the desert glass I made for him (now available in different hues) to purchase goods and information. One such piece of information spurred him to abandon his other calls, scoop me and his goods up, and get the hell out of town before the authorities descended on it looking for me.
Whoops, too late. We’re stopped. He goes through his song and dance about that “troublesome” slave. They rip the headdress off me to see…
A thin iron-bound fae?
This isn’t the slave you were looking for. Move along, citizen.
“<How did you do that? And how did you hide the [artifact]?>” “You haven’t bought the rights to that information yet.”
We cut across the desert to avoid the patrols. The authorities really want my ass. “<Well, you wanted information about desert tribes. You’re going to get it. The hard way. If you have a deity that loves you, start praying.>” We are surrounded by pillars of fire. The merchant is on his knees, head to the sand. I stand in quiet defiance.
A pillar of fire turns into an ifrit and attacks me. I dodge the attacks but don’t counter. “<Enough.>” The largest pillar becomes an ifrit and steps before me. It’s him. “<Last I saw you, you were merely a spark. What is this maelstrom that you have become? And why are you here?>”
We talk. Old bonds are released. New ones are formed. I get the information I sought. I explain the manhunt for me, and ask the merchant be granted safe passage through the desert to safety. He concedes, and pulls me, merchant, camel, and goods into a great vortex of fire. We are set down safely on the other side of the desert, three days of travel away from the city.
For helping me, the merchant is granted one Get Out Of Desert Trouble pass. (And only one.) I say goodbye to my friend. “<Where are you going now, Troublesome Woman?>” “I’m leaving the djinn lands. I have what I sought. Your remaining glass is intact. Spend it carefully.” And I left. The end.
~~~
I swear, though this happened last night, it feels like I’ve posted this before at least twice in the past month…
There is nothing but bare dirt, a lone small round table, and a cone of light illuminating the table. On the table is a sheet of stationary, with the letterhead comprised of a series of elaborate calligraphic art framing the capital letter J. Written on the letter in formal handwriting is the following:
I’m back, bitch. Miss me?
— J
As the first shock of remembered fear chills my too hot blood, I hear mocking laughter echo in the distance around me. I crumple the paper in my hand as nostalgic fear segues into cool awareness of my current abilities.
Last time, I banished him. This time, I will devour him. I am not the snotty fearing child easily tormented by memories. This time, I will destroy him utterly. He has no leash on my Shadow to pull.
~~~
“Who is ‘J’?” Glad you asked. (Sorta.) I’m not sure. I only know the psychological and physical torment “he” visited on me. The current theory is he is a construct of my fears, a solidification of the internalized hate and loathing my childhood molester stabbed into me. What ever he is, one of my first magical acts was to collect the trash him into a binding sphere, stamp it “Return To Sender”, and throw him back onto my molester where ever (when ever) she was.
He’s back. Nice. I wonder if she died and he clung to the only living link he has. Me. As a construct he probably requires someone living to attach to. He was made by her hands, in my body. With her gone, I’m the only feeding grounds he has left, I suppose. ~shrugs~
Given the moniker of “J” because when he manifested in me (Yay! Threat of possession and/or mental fuckery again! ~spits~) and fucked with those close to me, he laughed like a certain now castrated comic book character. The Joker. (Have you seen the reboots? Rejected.)
When I banished his ass, the torments stopped overnight. It was the turning point that convinced me magic was real, my dreams are real, and I don’t have to put up with this shit anymore.
So, the bastard is back. The chill of fear I felt was the last memory of his torment melting before the heat of what I am now. I am not easily frightened anymore. I am not ashamed of my sexuality anymore. I am not ashamed of my body anymore. I am not ashamed of being a victim of rapes and molestation anymore. I am not afraid of my Shadow, my maliciousness, or my cruel nature anymore. I am not afraid.
I’m only pissed as fuck that I have to deal with his punk ass one more time.
So really, the only question left is do I hunt him down alone or do I bring friends?
Welcome back, J. Come here you, I want to show you what you missed.
~~~
Nothing like being jarred to wakefulness with the obvious… Why did the traveling djinni merchant help me? Was he placed there? Did he know I was headed that way? He could have turned me in for a helluva reward at the city. Instead he helped me escape. The glass is not worth that much. Is it?
Garak, is that you?
I won’t be making any more excursions into djinn lands. None intentionally anyway. The other two places I need want to get information from is the Pacific Ocean and a Chinese graveyard.
Talk about being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea…
~~~
“Your pants, please.”
The request was so unexpected it jarred me into lucidity. “The pet has been locked away but the stains will set if not washed at once. Your pants please.”I looked around to find the high caste family I was the guest of had already removed pants and dresses. I noted they were much more comfortable doing so. Clothes are a human obsession after all, a curiosity and a hindrance for reptilian races. They had donned clothing to place me at ease.
When in Rome…
I took off the soiled pants and handed them to the servant. He hissed an acknowledgement before remembering I’m human. I did not say anything, but turned back to my hosts and resumed my storytelling.
“Your legs are bare and your undergarments are visible. Is this concern for you?” The lord of the household interrupted me. He had been trying all night to be rigidly formal. My adaptability to differing social constructs confused him. He wasn’t prepared for a human willing to abide by reptilian social standards.
“Only if they are an affront to you, Sir. Actually, I’m quite comfortable now. The humidity makes layers of clothing oppressive.” At my answer, the others nodded and flicked their tongues in obvious gestures of agreement. I felt bad for him. He tried so hard to put on a human-themed soirée, and I’m making a mess of everything. And the stories he is requesting is not helping matters.
My barely restrained stinkeye at the dreamcatcher was noticed. It disappeared the moment I turned away. I kept my composure at the Twinkies on the offering plate with an arrangement of Doritos around it. (An offering to an unnamed god of abundance, portrayed with a Buddha statue.) A portrait of Wonder Woman was flanked by various BSDM tools. The Morrigan is shown with bloodied hands, and labeled a goddess of peace and humility. Kali as a protector of fools. Cernunnos as the patron of slaves. A buxom teenage girl in diaphanous wraps holding a handful of light is labeled the Mother of Witches: Baba Yaga. I will speak to him privately about the Irish Potato Goddess altar erected in the hall. The whole thing was a hot mess of mashups made in innocent ignorance.
I’ve been summoned to tell the stories and myths of these figures. Well, shit. How do I straighten this out without making him lose face?
After we had eaten (Raw fish you say? Sushi! ~glee~) we sat down in the room adjacent to the… displays… for my stories. But somehow, the family pet was let in. Muddy, shitty, and an offense to the sense of smell, the pet ran around rubbing against everyone before being caught. The lord ordered everyone’s clothes to be washed at once. Leading to the lucidity invoking question.
The commotion was enough of a distraction to buy me time to gather my wits. I knew how to tell the right myths and increase his standing.
I ordered the shades to be drawn and the door to the room of abominations displays closed. Candles were brought in to illuminate the suddenly dark room.
“You have seen the altars and displays our host has set up, yes?” Tongues flicked in silent acknowledgement. “You saw those and thought those the truth, yes?” Fewer flicks as fewer were willing to admit they believed it. I leaned in slightly. “He was testing you, as the wise test those seeking wisdom.” Eyes opened widely as tongues jerked in a show of disbelief. The lord was caught off guard but recovered himself quickly. His face was a study of smug “Of course I was.”.
“What you saw in the other room were the expressions of lies that the foolish teach each other. It had to be seen before I begin to speak. Or you would not understand the weight and importance of what I’m about to tell you. There are those that can not bear the truth of how bloody, vicious, and indifferent human gods can be. If you think you can, I will speak.” I sat upright and waited for my cue for the stage.
Reptilian hissing disturbed my audience. My words caused discord. Good. The lord watched this as well, then took command of the situation.
“Weaver Storyteller! We can bear this. Tell us. Tell us the stories that others, even of your own kind, shrink from.”
“And what story shall I begin with, my lord?”
The audience fidgeted as everyone started asking him for their own favorite. Excellent. Instead of outting him as naive and ignorant, I have made him a gatekeeper of knowledge. He gains face, and I get to tell the old stories.
He understands what I have done and is relishing the attention. “Tell us of the Mother of Witches. Tell us of Baba Yaga!”
I nodded and began the telling with the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful. When the clean clothes arrived (to the dismay of the others), I hijacked them and used them as props for my telling (to great delight).
They asked for many stories last night. My awareness faded before the telling ended.
~~~
The bottle of rum landed in front of me with a sound retort. I look up to verify who is standing at the sudden table in front of me, and am surprised when two glasses are set down beside the still sealed bottle.
“A new bottle of rum? A new, unopened, bottle of rum?” The state of the bottle is more surprising to me than who is bringing it.
He sat down across from me and gestured for me to open it. “To celebrate you getting your head out of your ass.”
I broke the seal, and poured him a shot. But I turned my glass upside down. As I handed him his glass with flourish, the joviality dimmed in his eyes. “You’re not even going to be sociable?”
“It’s not a matter of social expectations. It’s that my reality is still quite sober. The gnashing of teeth has stopped, but time still pours out.” He chugs his glass and sets it down sharply. Without prompting, I fill it again.
“What do you need, girl? What will bring you back to the smiling bitch I know?”
“You know what. It was promised to me two years ago.”
“You couldn’t handle it then.”
“No… no, that would have been a disaster. But I need it now regardless if I can handle it or not.”
“You’re asking for it served on a silver platter? Like all the other times?”
“I’ll take it on a shitted shovel, if necessary. I know I have to work for it. I’m not asking for the clouds to part and the angels to sing choruses while rose petals fall at my feet. But I am asking for what was promised to me, however it appears.”
“On a silver platter, then. Gotcha.” He mocks me about a hurdle I have not been able to overcome. I do not cry at his words, nor do I refute them. I just stare at the empty upturned glass. “I don’t make, girl. I destroy. I can’t spin things into being. I can nudge, but it is still up to you to be at the right places for me to nudge into place.”
“Then I’m out of time, and I’m wasting yours.” I fill his glass one last time. “Sorry to have been of bother, Sir. Good night.” I stand and feel three trinkets clink at my hip. Three? I look down to see Horatio’s filled trinket and the two other empty and sealed trinkets hanging off the same ring on my belt.
The Rummer starts laughing. A deep, hearty laughter heavy with secrets and unspoken knowledge. “You’re not out of time, girl. You’re just blinded, that’s all. Maybe if you had someone to see the things you couldn’t, you might see a way out of what you call a fucking mess.” He stands, turning his glass upside down on the table. He dons his hat, looks at me, and laughs again. “Make sure you get good rum, girl. Good don’t mean pricey, either. Sometimes you have to look low to get the top shelf.” He turns and walks into the darkness as the surrounding gray mists start to swallow up table, rum, chairs, and me. “And don’t forget to be true to yourself. Always. Even if that truth is not what you thought it was.”
My eyes burn. I rub them fiercely. When I open them, I find myself back in my house, standing in the middle of the room with a weekly task in hand. Finishing off the task, I wonder if this is just a distraction so I don’t hurt anyone in my throes, or if I can dare to have hope again. (Nope.)
~~~
Why do I have a headache? ~covers face with pillow~ No, not a headache, a hangover. I don’t get hangovers, I drink far too measured and strategic for hangovers.
And I didn’t have any drinks last night. My larder is dry. No drinks to get drunk with.
So why am I remembering a bar? Not just any bar, a dive bar with dirt floors and fence board walls and a tinky piano and packed with all the sorts of people Mother warned me about. Tub gin. ‘Shine in mason jars. Deep fried meat of questionable nature.
And him.
He said I needed to get out. Needed to relax a bit. No one knows me here. My names are worthless. As far as they are concerned, I’m someone’s city cousin being shown a good time in the swamp. And I’m with him. I’m safer than the gold in Fort Knox.
A jug of black-strap rum is set on our little table. Along with two chipped mugs, and a plate of the good smelling meat. He poured me a thimble’s worth of rum and filled his mug completely.
Wait. I’m in the swamps of the South? “Alligator.”
“Yup.”
“Did it fight well?”
“Most likely. The critters round these parts don’t give up easy.”
“Then I better not dishonor it by letting it go to waste!” I toasted him and the plate with my wee drop of dark ass rum. The gator meat is good. Very good. Nothing like chicken.
The drop of rum almost knocks my ass out. While I struggle to resume breathing, he pours a finger’s worth into the mug and fills it with coffee. “Lightweight.”, he teases me.
“Hell ya I am. Your rum is strong enough to raise the dead and kill ‘em again!”
He laughs. “Naw, girl. I left that bottle in the office. This is the cut stuff.” I rolled my eyes as he burst into laughter. I chomped on another piece of gator to stay out of trouble.
~a mug of coffee later~ “You have folks interested in you again.”
“I always do.”
“I mean from my writings.”
He chuckles, not harshly but not friendly either. “From the first day you wrote of me, there has been interest.”
“Is this a problem?”
Cigar smoke wafts between us, obscuring him from my sight. “How much of me do I allow you to see? And how much of that do you allow others to see? There will always be those greedy for knowledge. You’re one of them. But wanting and getting are two different things. One doesn’t always follow the other.” He laughs, chasing away the smoke. I see my mug has been filled again with coffee and an unknown amount of rum. “We still have gator to eat! Relax, girl! Let that shit go if just for tonight.”
The gator meat is good.
~a few more mugs of “coffee” later~
“Hey girl, lemme see those souvenirs ya got.”
“What souv… suv… shit you talkin’ ‘bout?”
“The cursed egg and the stinger.” He has drank at least half the jug, and he looks like he has never even opened it.
I’m drunk. I’m not that drunk. “Why?” I didn’t question how he knew of it, or if scuttlebutt reached him or if he read my words. I did think it an odd question.
“Because, I’m asking nicely.” I think I sobered halfway just on the chill in his voice. Carefully I reached into my travel satchel and pulled out the egg and stinger. I placed them on the table away from the crowd and the few pieces of gator meat.
He looks over both with a severe eye. “You broke it, you own it?” I giggled and almost fell out the chair from nodding too vigorously. He chuckled in mirth with me. “This isn’t a stinger, it’s a thorn. Antivenin won’t cure this. How did you?”
I told him about the tobacco. He nodded in approval. He asked where was the now tainted tobacco. “I mixed it with some high class ‘baccy and ‘let’ it get stolen.” He burst into guffaws.
“Humans! Fuck! Now common sense would tell you not to steal from a juju-woman. The hubris of man has no limit, I tell you.” He wrapped up the egg and stinger/thorn. The rum reasserted itself and I was unable to speak my annoyance at being stolen from right there at the table. He read my face clearly. “Naw girl, there is more to this than you know. I need to do a little show and tell of my own. You don’t mind, do ya? Ya might not get it back.”
As if I could stop him. I roll my eyes and snatch the last piece of gator. I bite into it with overly deliberate flourish. “More coffee to go with that pride?”, he asks. Bastard. I smile and nod all the same. I notice he pours half coffee and half rum into the mug.
The rest of the night disappeared in a swirl of black strap rum, loud music, loud crowd, and more fried gator.
My head currently hates me. I have a hangover. I’m going to get more coffee and dare some food before attacking my inbox.
~~~
“Why are you still stiff around me? What has happened in my absence?”
“[He] crossed a line that I could not wish away. And now I have to assume that should we meet again, there will be… trouble.”
Fifty feet of ever shifting hues coiled around me loosely. Just enough that his weight pins me. Not enough to make me feel constricted. “And you are waiting for me to betray you just the same.”
“… Yes.”
“Tell me. When I attacked you, it was with full intention to [tw]. You know that. I do not feint. My intent was to break the chains on you, or break your mind doing so.”
“I know.”
“Yet you did not shrink from me afterward. Still you slept soundly in my coils. Why are you punishing me for another man’s sin?”
“Because I believed he would never put me in that position… heh… I said position… ” Why am I crying? “I believed him when he said he would never hurt me again. Just as I believed you when you said you were trying to help me, not abuse me. He betrayed that trust.” I look up to deep emerald eyes. “I guess I’m waiting for you to do the same.”
“I can take on the appearance of humanity, to the point where not even you can spy the truth. Whether I appear as this, or as… ” His form shimmers and a pale Irish youth smiles at me from under a sudden shock of red hair and bright green eyes. “… this… I am still the same that you know.”
I didn’t realize I had set my jaw unnaturally tight until my very bones in my skull ached from the pressure. I had already backed away from him, ready to flee blindly. Freckled hands took mine and kissed them. He dropped them and coiled tightly around me in a sudden serpentine form.
“What is mine, I do not let go. I will not allow your Svartalf to take you. I will not allow [him] to take you. I will not betray you, but I can not promise I will never hurt you.”
I don’t struggle. I lean into the coils and rest my head on the massive flesh. I don’t look at his glorious rainbow face. “Did I trade one master for another then?”
“If that is what comforts you, then yes.”
“It does not comfort me. It makes me quite angry and viciously livid.”
“Why?”
“Because I will be owned by no one. Not man nor beast. Not fleshed nor noncorporeal. I will own myself, and my selves, only.”
“In that case, no, you haven’t. You have no master, and I will abide by that.”
“What do you think of tea?” I snuggle into his coils, trying to sound at peace, trying to be at ease in his grip.
“Tea?” A large serpent head moves to be eye to eye with me. “Jill makes coffee, not tea.”
I laugh. “There’s someone I want you to meet. He tried to impersonate you.” Snake rears over me in a display of disapproval.
“And he still exists?”
“He was lonely. And you weren’t with me. I think he pulls off being a serpent quite well. And it would cheer him up I think if he met another serpent.”
“‘Pulls off’… You’re saying he’s not a serpent?”
I work an arm free and pull Snake’s head back to my chest. “Oh hell naw, he’s not a serpent. I even doubt he is a ‘he’. But that’s what he wants to show himself to me as, so I’m rolling with it. Anyways… there’s this world where the mountains float above fields so purple, dyemasters would bleed for a hundredth of the hue. It’s great for a lazy afternoon with tea and delicate cakes.”
“Weaver, just what has gotten into you? Are you turning British? Are you still in shock?”
“Quiet, or I’ll bring rum instead.”
~~~
“Rough night?” The serpentine head easily pushed through the layers of pelts over me. I heard Snake getting closer. A cold forked tongue tickled my ear in teasing.
“What gave it away?”
“You have a new pelt in the collection, and you’re almost laying on stone. That’s body language for ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’.”
I snuggled my face against Snake and chuckled. “Well, I’m a little pissed, a lot amused, and tired of the shit by now. Seriously. This guy is getting to [redacted] levels of tenacity, foolishness, and desperation.”
More of Snake’s body followed and curled around me enjoying the warmth. “Give me the short version.”
“Short version? You’re asking me to tell a short story?”
He laughed. “Think Twitter.”
“I’ve flooded Twitter before.”
“Please? There’s something I need to know.” In the dark under the pelts, Snake’s head laid gently on my neck.
“Fine. Once upon a time, I woke up in a mild stupor in a slaver’s manor. He and his fellows thought they had me under control, but I shook it off at once and was playing along to find where to create the greatest damage for the minimum of effort. Outside in the street there was a large earth spirit that knew I was there and was waiting for me to fuck shit up and leave so it could bring me back to the surface. They knew the earth spirit was there and was freaking out which was really funny because the earth spirit was appearing as an earthworm the thickness of a bus and the length of a city block.”
“So the earth spirit knew you were there?”
“Yup.”
“And didn’t try to bust you out?”
“Nope. It knew I was going to make my own exit and was just hanging around for the fireworks, I think.”
“Okay, continue.”
“So the slaver ordered me to do some things and I had enough of this shit by now, so I just stood up, shook off the bindings and went to the window waving at the earthworm. Along the way, I saw the water pipes that fed the building. The slaver evacuated his crew and set loose his secret weapon against me.”
“Oh! A secret weapon! By the way, do I know who the slaver is?”
“Maybe. Can you guess what the secret weapon was?”
Snake chuckled, shaking fifty feet of muscle and jarring me from head to toe. “Um… A trap baited with sushi?”
“Ha! No. A fire spirit.”
“A what?”
“A fire spirit! He chased his crew out, unlocked the portable furnace housing it, and locked me in with it. So…” I started laughing in memory of it. “So… this fire-ish… thing… not really a fire spirit. Kinda had an infernal scent to it, but also had an underground scent to it. Maybe a magma thing, sulfur based? I dunno. But this fire comes out the furnace, takes on a human male appearance, and starts trying to seduce me!” I lost it and starting laughing.
“Wut.”
I’m still laughing but nodding.
“An incubus?”
“Could be. I’ve never met one. But it fits.”
“And just how did this… seducing spirit… try to draw you into its embrace?”
“By showing me all the different forms its penis can take and promising me so much delight and pleasure and all I have to do is let it embrace me and since I’m also fire affinity I won’t be harmed. And shit.” I tried to say it with a straight face, but lost it and started laughing again.
Snake was quiet for a short length of time. He broke the silence with, “Are you fucking kidding me? After all you have been through? I assume the slaver knows of your background.”. I nodded in mirth. “What the hell made him think that this would ever work? Now I see why you say he is reaching [redacted] levels of tenacity and desperation. So, what did you do with Hot and Bothered?”
“I broke the water pipes and began flooding the area. The room was prepared for an onslaught of fire. But not a single preparation for water.”
“And how did the Towering Flame of Love react?”
“He started screeching at me. Asking me if I was trying to kill myself. After all, I’m a fire thing too, the water will drown me. I only smiled and waited until the water was knee deep. Just before he had to withdraw into his furnace pot and seal himself in, I let him watch me turn into a mermaid. Let’s just say, he was not happy to see that transformation.”
“Disney mermaid, or real mermaid?”
“Real mermaid. Remember the ones from the cave? Oh, that’s right, you missed that too. Real mermaid, lamprey mouth and all.”
“A vision of loveliness, I’m sure.”
“Let’s just say the fire thing stopped trying to show off his penis and sealed himself in his furnace pot with prejudice.”
Snake and I laughed. Now that his body is warmed up, it’s starting to get hot under the pelts.
“The water filled the room halfway before the windows gave out. I went with the flow and spilled out to just in front of the giant earthworm. It teased me about taking my sweet time, embraced me by taking me into its mouth, and began burrowing through the worlds back to the forest not far from here.”
“This forest?”
“Yea.”
“The forest where the Shamblings are?” Snake sounded concerned.
“Yea… why?”
“I have to check out some things, that’s all. So, where did the pelt come from?”
“The Shamblings gave it to me as a gift. They ambushed some folks and found the hide of their beast of burden distasteful. So they kept it for me. Have no idea what the beast was before their unfortunate occurrence. Don’t recognize the species.”
“Ah. Sounds like the night went well for you. Why the sullen pouting?”
“Because I’m tired of this shit.”
“Go to sleep then. And I’ll hold you here.”
So I did.
~~~
Make of that, what you may.