Christine's been insufferable since the election, confident she'd voted herself at last into Heaven. But though squared and humanized by a demonic throng, the end remains the same for her leader.
She spotted me at a reception before I could escape. "Oh, Harry, you must meet my good tribal friend, the Boston Strangler." I backed away. "You're leaving?"
"Not so much leaving as...retreating in disbelief."
She whispered conspiratorially, "It's OK, now! We can be who we are. No need for hoods!"
She spotted me at a reception before I could escape. "Oh, Harry, you must meet my good tribal friend, the Boston Strangler." I backed away. "You're leaving?"
"Not so much leaving as...retreating in disbelief."
She whispered conspiratorially, "It's OK, now! We can be who we are. No need for hoods!"
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