My poor P.A. This is how our night here ended: imagine me in a candlelit room with thick clouds of incense in the air. Harps and soft bells play in the background. I’m hunched over a big, black book, chanting in Latin while lighting candles and holding dollar bills over the censor. Suddenly he pops around the corner and asks me, “What are you doing?” [He was trying to be helpful!] I jump (it was unexpected . . . no one ever bothers me in my magick room). I look up and say, “Please get out of here.” With a look of concern on his face he asks, “Oh no! Are you burning MONEY?” Holding the money over the incense I say, “I’m not. I’m cleansing it.” “Just don’t do anything spooky. The weirdest stuff happens in this house at night while you’re sleeping.” [Don’t ask . . . because you don’t want to know what happens while I’m sleeping and none of you would believe me . . .] When I’m done, I find him in bed hiding under the covers, with all the lights on. What the heck is he going to do when he catches me doing EBÓ? And just how long will this P.A. last in this house???
Posted on: Fri, 04 Jul 2014 05:38:24 +0000
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