Start with the most basic Question:
Do You know Why you are?
No, not exactly.
This is…well OK.
There is eating Yes.
This is important Because…
…it does Something to my Anger.
It made me yell at you Once.
So I am made to eat You.
This is actually OK.
This I can Live with.
It does me no Harm and…
There is Reason in this.
“Why not destroy it, I say?,” croaked the embalmed thing, seated puppet-like in the richly embroidered, nicotine-soaked armchair, whose bewitching pattern incessantly pricked at Le Poseur’s prick-spot in the brain.
“Now hold on…what the fuck gives?”
“I’ll tell you what gives,” the feeble old bastard returned. “That God-forsaken book did just what it’s G`damn title said it would…brought a world of frickin’ Hurt.”
“What the fuck you know about a World of hurt anyway?”
“I shown it ta’ Bishop Rickets and two weeks with that motherfuckin’ thin’ and he’s slurping’ snot an’ spurtin’ his Jism all fuckin’ over da G`damn Rectory!”
“Yeah well…that’s why I kept it close to the chest…Priceless!”
I think it would be a good
idea to learn how to turn
off a gas heater so we
could avoid filling
the house with gas.
You will not experience
or exhibit that emotion.
I have stopped rubbing my palms free from of the Dust of the ancient tomes that are still so dear to me but gone. My hands they have an odor of pickle to them that is all that sustains me in this vacuous holding pattern I now find myself in. For a man to lose his Library is something very akin to the Fall of Adam and it stings the pride like the discovery of adultery. You must trust that my intentions have always been to continue on with this mission I hold myself to of keeping you against the day, of sharing with you my vertiginous descent into the Maelstrom of my soul’s shipwreck! But my own Salvation rests with recovering my precious Collection—torn from me in my absence as all things Magical tend to be when not given a Witch’s vigil. Oh, if you must—come along then. Perhaps it is best for you to learn first hand what Fool’s Errands occupy the Damned!