Where Is War-Weena?

—Internet’s quiet tonight

—Yep

—You said yer sleepy. Sure you wanna be bloggin?

—Don’t see why not. Got some language in my pan, might as well fry it up

—That don’t mean you necessarily have anything to say [easing off the fake southern accent outta self-consciousness]

—always got something to say. even when I don’t. I dig the “tale told by an idiot”

—that Macbeth?

—yep

a pause. they pause.

—nother thing about writin sleepy or writin fat is that it’s ok to do that, I mean, I read somewhere Patricia Berr-Easse wrote Canticles n shit when she was exhausted and 150 lbs overweight

—goll that’s amazing. I couldn’t write a check to the DMV with even half a hangover and you’re a sleepy little guy tonight, wow, impressive. Why don’t you call War-Weena and see if she wants to hang out? You might impress her with your memories of childhood, or your extemporaneous puns, or your love of alternative media, or your stories about emails you’ve sent and received

—I dunno, she’s distant, she’s holding her ground, I think she’s still sad about the world of witchcraft disaster from last month

—oh yeah I forgot she’s into the occult

—yes, she is most powerful

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