Mr. Scratchy, Herman.
How was your day?
I caught up with last night's wrestling, and tell Dimmer that the outfit didn't shine like I'm sure he thought it should. Sure it must have looked fabulous in real life, but on tv, it was a miss. The pants just were too...well too much. And I miss the grey. Grey is the new black.
Unless you are Dimmer, in which case... speaking of last night's wrestling, tell Mad Hatter I noticed the haircut. Unless you're Mad Hatter in which case...
I think I've lost total ability to write horror stories. My fairy tale has a mind of it's own and seems to want to go the way of romance novels. There was a time when blood and guts and ghosts were all I wrote. Not so much anymore. I feel that if I let it go romance I'm letting everyone down who's been reading it this far.
I imagine you checking in to this tonight, hanging around your hotel room in your underwear, having just come in from the gym. You've got a cup of tea in hand as usual for your nightly routine. I imagine you pushing up those wire rimmed glasses I think you wear, having checked messages just before checking here.
I think you've had a wonderful day, and have a smirk on your pale lips.
As always Herman, I hope I brought a smile to your night.
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