I wring my hands upon the porchsteps, scrying to Saint Leora; Musette; electra_grey; and @madness.
Bombs are rumbling beneath the football field. It is an evil nonsense: Anarchy; Death for Death’s sake; Narcissism.
Just knowing where we are in the story makes me wary.
The gargoyles are watching from the gate.
There it is, the music again intensifying.
I roll up my argyle sleeves, place the pink crown upon my head, and enrobe the purple mantle regalia.
I am sheriff to this one horse town.
I am Narcissism.