Like Smoking Cigarettes

Nuance is a important.

Some people are very different. From each other. And the similarities are illusion. Or unimportant. In their proper context.

“Oh well. The Devil makes us sin.”

Except he doesn’t. We choose to.

It’s all poetry and jazz…somehow…after all. Isn’t it?

And that’s the thing.

“Fuck me!” yells a youngish woman in the Illuminati. Why? Because she wants a dead ghost to take her. Preferably one from the early 1900’s.

“Is that possible?” asks JFK.

“I don’t know. But I bet you do.” responds Lacey.

It’s a beautiful choice in men. Regardless.

“And if it’s at all possible, be careful. You don’t know at all what you’re doing.” says JFK as a grave warning.

“You’re delusional.” says Michael to Lacey. And she is.

“She’s delusional.” he repeats.

“How?” asks Lem, oddly scared?

“She’s in love with you and you’re gay for J..” he claps his hands like a seal.

Lem gets up and walks away.

But then he returns. Because he wants to.

“I can’t get over you.” Lem says to Lacey.

“Are you supposed to?” asks God.

“That’s the thing. I’m delusional. Because I don’t know why anyone would need or want me. At all. Other than to use me in some way.”

Jack finds this too depressing so he narcissistically retreats.

“I get it!” says JFK Jr.

“No. You don’t.” says Lacey to JFK Jr.. She fights off a migraine.

“See. Lem, that’s the problem. That’s the problem. You gave your soul for sex you didn’t want with a priest substitute. And you damaged his soul and your soul. And Lacey can’t clean that up for you.” says Michael.

“Fucking. Hmm. Yeah. It means something. Doesn’t it, Lem?” says Louis. “It’s all righteous desire for atonement. Or it’s a lie.”

“Did you really want me?” asks Lacey sincerely to Lem.

“Lem. She’s not Jack. She doesn’t assume the best. Lie about the rest. And get shot. There’s no shot. I call the shots. So does Louis. So does her father.” says Michael.

“Shots all around!” says a hot, wild, and very dead sorority sister. “Wooo!!!!”

“Jell-O shots are yummy!” says a dead frat boy. “Yummy, yummy, yummy. Yummy in my tummy.”