Love Sick

Radio by Lana Del Rey plays.

(Adult content below)

Lacey wasn’t loved. No, her parents did not likely love her. At all.

“Duh!” says a hater condescendingly, rolling their eyes. They shake their (genuinely) loved ass in an act of superiority in Lacey’s face declaring war on her existence. They feel a rush, a high and it makes them grin.

The song changes.

After Dark by Mr. Kitty plays.

Michael sits with the Asmats. They dance around him in a circle. He wonders what they’re doing. They smile, they frown. It’s unclear what’s going on. But it’s a definitely a circle.

He rises to take photos? Right? Or is it a natural defense mechanism?

The song changes.

High Road by Cults plays.

The thing is…Lacey has always struggled to make friends. Because she wasn’t loved. Her peers were always expecting her mood to be more…chill.

“You’re so uptight!” they’ve literally told her.

Her creepily ethereal and light-handed, sad, distant, cold albeit genuinely loving, sensitive and fun-loving personality wasn’t appreciated. She was…”weird.” Too “adult-like” was another common complaint. Complaints about her soul. As if her peers had ordered a different Lacey and were disappointed by what they found. There was no regard for her as a human.

They didn’t kill her. They didn’t shove her into things. But they brutally mocked her. And now Mr. Blue (who’s entirely white) feels he’s an African American in some way…and that he’s going to join the Asmat cause and torture and kill Lacey as he vibes-fantastic with the woke-church calling on his life.

No, Lacey wasn’t in the right mood to make friends. Millennials wanted her to be…joyful and…at peace…and…not so stuffy and caring and serious and…Christian and…deep. Maybe kind of deep? But not…like…soo deep!!! *they roll their eyes*

“I think she’s just pretentious!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Oh! Like she’s an idiot? And that’s why she’s so serious. We’re not wrong to be so…relaxed and chill?” asks a Gen Xer.

“Yeah. That’s about right.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Yeah, it’s not like shes that rich! I mean…she’s a total fake. Right?!” asks another perfume hater.

“Yeah! A part of me hopes she just commits suicide. She’s ruining my mood.” says another Millennial in their spirit.

“What difference would that make?! Her death would please me! I’m tired of looking at her brilliance and beauty and feeling insecure!” says a Millennial Nancy.

“Why does she wear Tabu? That’s for whores. I’d never wear that.

She must be a broke loser! I’m superior! I’m superior! …Just give me ten more minutes to study her and I’ll figure out how.” says a Susanne.

“Guys, her vibe is off!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“How?” asks a supposedly super sensitive and loving Millennial guy.

“She’s a bitch!!!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Why?!” asks Super-Sensitive-Millennial-Guy in a concerned tone for The Loudest Perfume Hater’s feelings.

“I’m…queer. And she’s…closeted and…I’m hurt.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Oh my gosh!!! That’s awful!” says Super-Sensitive-Millennial-Guy to The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“That’s insane! I’m straight and cis and nothing ever happened between us. We texted once and it wasn’t sexual and it was creepy talking to you.” says Lacey calmly to The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“I’m not creepy! I’m a sex goddess of darkness!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater in complete seriousness.

“I love it!!! That’s sooo cool!” says Mr. Blue to The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“I dig that!” says the moderately handsome but very well-dressed Super-Sensitive-Millennial-Guy trying to imitate the original Hippies. It grates on Lacey’s nerves for many reasons.

“It’s our time!!” says another group of perfume haters to The Loudest Perfume Hater joyfully.

“She’s a liar.” says the Gen X crowd who longs desperately (and sincerely) for Lacey to be poor. “She’s a liar. She’s…a…liar. A prideful liar! …She is!! …And so I’m going to side yet you, The Loudest Perfume Hater. You delight me! Of Queen of Poisons And Darkness. I anoint you to our highest seat of glory in the perfume community. May we always follow your star!”

“Awww!!! Group hug!” says a perfume collecting fan of John Hughes films. “She’s so…into tea. And…outdated, old-fashioned, pretentious bullshit.”

“Yeah!! Fuck you, you white, whorish, cheap, ugly, closeted-bitch!” says the entire perfume community to Lacey in 2017. The misunderstanding and hatred of Lacey flows through to 2020.

“What did you actually call me a bitch for?” asks Lacey of The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Because you see through me. I can’t stand when people see through my bullshit. …And I felt intimidated by you and it pissed me off.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater. “I have been fixated on the idea of you being queer for personal reasons of my own. But truthfully, I’m just narcissistically hurt by you.”

“Wait! Wait! That means Lacey’s still queer right?!??” asks Mr. Blue in a hyper state.

“No!!!” says Lacey, kindly to Mr. Blue.

“She’s obviously not queer. But…then I get to this place in my head where…I’m like…why am I disturbed by her sexuality? And I’d like to think she’s queer because it comforts me. And I choose comfort!” says a group of Gen Z members.

“That’s fine!” pleasantly says the entire Liberal sector of the Western World to Gen Z.

“Yeah! Aww. I don’t like her either. My husband thinks she’s hot.” says a female Boomer on behalf of most female Boomers.

“Huh. So I’m not queer. But…are you all allowing me freedom to do whatever I want within reason?” asks Lacey. “I’ve always had the sense that you all really don’t care in all actuality.”

“Is this when she comes out of the closet?!?!?” excitedly asks a group of Gen X men who can’t stand Lacey for some mysterious reason.

“Eh…I doubt it. Don’t get your hopes up for her to be likable!” say most living Boomers.

“How about I fall in love with ghosts?!” asks Lacey dreamily in 2016. The English smile lovingly, knowingly.

Silently she does.

And the Americans ignore it. Shake their asses.

“I’m excited for the future!” says a Susanne in the perfume community. “I’ll live in a house smaller than Lacey’s. Except on purpose!!!”

“OMG! You are soooo cooool!” says the pencil skirt wearing perfume hater in response.

“Rock on sisterhood!!” say a group of women over the age of 28. “You’re just jealous!” they say to Lacey seriously.

“OMG! I love that we have the first female Vice President.” say a group of female Millennials.

“OMG! Shake your asses!!! We won, ladies! THE FUTURE IS FEMALE!!” they say lisping, mincing and twerking.

Homage by Mild High Club plays.

“That’s hot!” say all straight Millennial men, stupidly. A few lesbians join them.

“Say, Lacey why can’t you act and look like that?!? See…that’s why I think you’re a lesbian.” says a Susanne seriously. “I’m an actual old woman. You’re supposed to be that. Not like me.” She thinks. “I’m a genius. And I’m right. …Why don’t you try harder to attract men?!”

“Are they idiots?” Lacey asks confused.

“No! They’re all old money. And going to Harvard Law School!” says her female college advisor seriously.

“But they’re acting like trashy idiots.” says Lacey.

“I’m old money!” says one of them sounding like Anna Nicole Smith as she says it. “My dad went to court and we have three houses.”

“Wow!!!” says most Americans in a stupid nasal tone. “That’s soo cool. Tell us more about what it means to be old money.” They’re being serious.

“I have three yachts and wear Loro Piana! Hey, look at my ass! Isn’t it cute!??” she asks, struggling to stand-up.

“Oh man!!! Oh man!! I bet if the old farts who liked too many women saw her they’d bang her in two minutes. They’d jizz their shorts for sure!!” say all living men? Or say the most insecure living men?

“Yeah! We’re soo cool! Our chicks are hotter!” say most of Gen X men, almost all Millennials, and the Boomers are confused.

“ROCK ON!!” say Gen X men.

“Yeah!!! Rock…on!” say more of them.

ROCK ON, MAN!” says another.

“ROCK ON!!” says one final Gen X man as a command. It’s a common command repeated often.

“Rock on? Like…Rock Hudson? No. That’s idiotic. Poor Rock Hudson. …Rock & Roll.” says Lacey in her mind. She thinks. “No, they don’t know what they’re saying. But I suppose saying Pop-on would be weird. Or rap-on.” She thinks. “Rap-on. No. No that’s not going to work. Poor English language.”

“You’re a dude!!!” say all insecure living people to Lacey.

“Except I’m not.” says Lacey.

“Then you’re stupid!” they respond. “We’re the victims!!! We are children! And-“ *they laugh* “Nothing matters!”

“Yeah! I don’t care how you interpret that! …Your interpretation doesn’t matter. You don’t matter!!!!!” yells Mr. Blue demon possessed at Lacey. “You don’t matter!!!”

“OMG! I’m such a big deal. …OMG! She’s in love with him!” says Mrs. Blue.

“Is she?!?” asks Mr. Blue smiling.

“Yes! I’m so hurt!” says Mrs. Blue.

“I’ll avenge your death my beloved!!!” says Mr. Blue to his living wife Mrs. Blue. “You are nothing! And you don’t matter!!!” he says to Lacey, giggling insanely in his spirit like Golum. “I’m a Satanist. And as a minority community like black people…we demand you don’t offend us.” He looks hurt. “Therefore you can’t disagree with the following statement.” He clears his throat. “Christianity is objectively stupid. Evil. And wrong. Satanism will win in the end. It always does-“

Lacey interrupts in her head referencing history.

Lord Poopengrass demands Lacey be silenced. Lord Poopengrass demands Lacey is NOT old money. Lord Poopengrass is offended.

“She kind of is though.” says a Republican to Lord Poopengrass.

“I’m hurt!” says Lord Poopengrass. “My daughters can’t compete with her. She’s right. They look like literal alien idiots compared to her.”

“On a constant sugar high.” says his female Satanist friend.

The Satanists think. “Well…that’s harsh truth.”

“Well, I’m still hurt!” says Lord Poopengrass. He sighs.

“It’s cool! I got this!” says Mr. Blue going forward.

“Oh yeah?!” asks Lord Poopengrass smiling.

“Since day one!” says Mr. Blue, cheerfully.

“So, Mr. Blue is going to take care of it?!” asks Lord Poopengrass.

“Yes! Of course!” say his minions with hidden condescension.

Mr. Blue stands behind an electric piano. He shakes his behind. He dances. He’s imitating a Charismatic worship leader.

Four Walls and an Amplifier by Brock Berrigan plays.

“Rock on!!” yell the men outside watching, playing, living.

“Kick-ass!” yell other men and women.

“That’s the shit!” says another group.

“You bitch!” say others.

“I’m a such a bimbo.” says Gen Z.

But most notably, “Lol! Nothing matters.” say all Democrats violently in 2016. Over and over and over again.

Let The Drummer Kick plays.

“This our jam!” says They in the Illuminati triumphantly.

“Let the drummer kick!” says a friend of Lord Poopengrass.

“Let him kick!!!” says another friend of Lord Poopengrass seriously, banging on a tambourine in his spirit.

Mr. Blue comes in with a cowbell. “I love me a sexy drummer!”

“That’s right! You tell ‘em!” says the first friend of Lord Poopengrass.

Mr. Blue looks at him seriously and nods his head. “Yes, Sir. I aim to!” he says like a broken victim working to find his wings.

“I’m reminded of Maya Angelou. She was my best friend.” says the second friend of Lord Poopengrass.

“Yes! Let…the-Let the drummer kick!!” says Lord Poopengrass.

In honor of Lem Billings who comes to mind for one aging actual homosexual in the crowd, he smiles. He nods. “Let HIM KICK!!!” he cheers. More lacking in self-consciousness than JFK the men dance around the room in a circle while holding paper towels on their heads. In front of the antique fireplace.

Mr. Blue grins. He’s found his tribe he feels. He loses himself, ecstatic. Dances.

High By The Beach by Lana Del Rey plays.

“I hate getting high.” says Lacey. “It’s scary. You lose control of yourself.”

“If you’d been loved you could enjoy getting high. See…our parents love lives like…forever. And we’re never accountable. And…we will always be innocent.” say all who enjoy getting high. “Or…we would rather be dead? Or someone loved us somewhere?” They scoff at Lacey. “You just don’t get it! You loser!”

Michael Rockefeller drowns. Close to shore. Michael is murdered. Michael is…dead.

Lord Poopengrass dances. Mr. Blue dances. They raise their fists in victory the moment Michael passes into death. Mr. Blue shakes his head in demonic glee. Then he shakes like a wet dog.

In 1961 US President Kennedy offers all assistance he can to try to help find Michael. He feels good. He feels fine. He feels…upbeat, actually. In that moment before hearing about Michael.

In 2016. “I think Lacey has a vibe like Marilyn Monroe.” says Mr. Blue.

“Yeah!” says a Millennial woman trying to be kind.

“But like Marilyn Monroe reincarnated.” says an older man becoming aroused.

“Yeah!” says another older man smiling.

“Say…” says yet another older man.

The Millennial woman feels personally slighted and morally alienated and enraged.

“Why don’t you think of me that way?!??” she says in her head. It’s a phrase that’s been thrown against Lacey by women her whole life. About possibly every blessing she’s ever had.

The older men worry. They don’t want trouble. …They don’t want to be mean.

“Well…Marilyn was an idiot anyway.” they all say one way or another. “And a gold-digger. She played one in the movies!”

Fall In Love by Phantogram plays.

Lem overdoses.

“I’m hurt. I’m hurt!” says Jack when Lem rejects him?

“You’re problem is like mine in the sense that you’re rejected. You’re rejected. You’re dealing with rejection!” says Lacey’s molester to her over and over. “Just like me.”

Most living Americans to Lacey, “Yeah! Aww! You’re so sad! You’ve been brutally rejected by us! We reject you! Aww!” they start seriously, Then when she doesn’t react enough, “You’re…sad!! Right! Be sad!!!!” Still not reacting, “You hideous bitch!!! We reject you!!” They fume. “Be REJECTED!!!”

“She’s an ugly bitch! For sure!” say a group of Australians claiming to be British. In reality they’re Greek, Eastern European and in some cases…Australian. In other cases they’re aboriginal.

Joe Jr. sees Vanny naked. Vanny talks to him. Vanny imitates Lacey. Vanny discovered Joe Jr. through Lacey’s chatter about him.

“It’s like…rainbows and stuff. Glitter. It’s the Gen Z aesthetic.” Vanny explains her interests to Joe.

He’s fascinated. She’s wealthy in a similar way to how he was wealthy. He relates.

Vanny seduces him. He seduces her.

The Trip by Still Corners playsof of

“I’ve slept with demons.” says Vanny to Joe Jr. “I’m not scared of you.”

Vanny smokes weed. Puts on lingerie. A well paid psychic contacts Joe Jr. and translates his every move and word.

And that’s when Joe actually may have manifested slightly for Vanny to have sex.

Meanwhile Lacey had run off with Louis to get coffee. Lacey trusted Joe not to really hurt her.

Driving around Lake Calhoun Lacey was psychically interrupted. While she sipped her coffee.

“Lacey, she’s slept with Joe!!!” said an Illuminati witch?

Lacey hesitated, “Not really though. Right?”

And Joe was instructed to punch Lacey in the gut by Vanny.

“What gets you off?!?” Joe asked Vanny as Vanny struggled to orgasm.

“Just punch her in the gut!” she said about Lacey. “I’d like to kill her. We all would. But punch her for me, baby!”

He psychically punched Lacey in the gut.

“Why?! Why is he attacking me?!” Lacey asked confused. Hurt, somewhat unsurprised but mostly confused. “Didn’t he just have sex?” she wondered to herself quietly. “Wasn’t it good? Isn’t that what he wanted?”

“LET THE DRUMMER KICK!!” yells Lord Poopengrass, fist in the air, ecstatic. Out of time.

Louis was disturbed. They were really just getting coffee, in her estimation. Or that’s what Lacey recalls.

Joe lied about Vanny and his interest in her. Joe lied about Pat. Joe lied about Katharine.

ICan You Hear Them Sing? by Cemeteries plays.

“I didn’t sleep with her!” he said.

Later, “It was meant to be a joke.” he said. “Like, we’d tell her later that it was just sex and didn’t mean anything!”

Lacey was confused. It made no sense.

“Joe, those people are trying to kill me.” said Lacey. “Sleeping with her was like sleeping with my worst enemy.”

He couldn’t handle it.

A while later Lacey crashed down the stairs in front of her family. After confronting Rose about Joe’s sex with Vanny. The Vanny crowd took responsibility for the attack. Her head cracked open on the kitchen radiator from the early 1900’s.

Vanny shakes her large body in The Limited 2000’s style attire.

“Then we have her other opportunities to die.” says another Vanny Crew diehard about Lacey.

“I’m the victim! You used me!!” Joe Jr. says to Lacey.

“LET THE DRUMMER KICK!” says Lord Poopengrass gleefully. Incense rising from his talisman. It’s out of time.

“How did I use you?!?” asks Lacey.

“I don’t know. You hurt me.” he says to Lacey.

“Oh! Oh! Okay!” says Louis, more indignant than Lacey.

Got Your Money by Ol’ Dirty Bastard plays.

“I’m over you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. However I did it.” says Lacey sincerely to Joe Jr..

“No, that’s not true!” say all the demons in the Kennedy family. They’re nervous.

Those cows are likely all dead.

“Let the drummer kick!” say the men mindfully. But sadly too, because the ceremony which takes place outside of time spiritually is drawing to a close.

“No!!” say the demons in the Kennedy family.

“No, I’m over him.” says Lacey seriously.

And Pat Wilson dances on the beach. “Joe, it’s hilarious. ‘Baby! I got your money!’”

He smiles. He did love Pat.

“Why are you doing this to me?!?” Joe asks Lacey after seeing Lacey dancing in the past.

“I mean…I guess she might have been gross-sexy!” says Millennial women bitterly about Lacey.

“No! She’s not got big boobs. But she’s far from gross.” says Louis watching her dance.

Harold looks utterly entranced. “She’s…delightful.” he says.

Lem who’s been playing along the entire time, silently, letting it all transpire for decades loses his temper and grabs Lacey. Carries her off. She doesn’t notice anything much of course because she was dancing alone in her room in waking life.

Over time she writes him into her novel.

“Oh! He’s working on behalf of Joe! She’s still with Joe!” says most of the Illuminati.

“Like he did for the other Kennedy girls?” says a Boomer woman.

“Yeah! He’s prone to doing that. …But she’s not that important. I’m not impressed!” say most living Illuminati members in late September of 2023.

“Lem was a HUGE FAG!” says a gay Boomer.

“But you guys think they’re sleeping together too. How does that make sense?” asks Summertime Sadness.

“Yeah. It’s our genius. We can do cognitive dissonance without the fear of being wrong. Its’s our choice, duty and glory. It’s an operational-side double-sided MPcX4 opportunity-shift Powerhussen Anti-Explosive Oxyemienite.” The Illuminati says like the boss who drove the Porsche in Office Space. “Look it up!”

“That sounds hard.” says Summertime Sadness.

“Like an erect penis?!” asks Mr. Blue, aghast.

“Maybe?” responds Summertime Sadness.

“You’re a dissonant!” says an Illuminati member to Summertime Sadness.

“Indeed I am.” says Summertime Sadness.

“We’re-We…don’t…” the old money Illuminati gets concerned.

“Shut-up! Lem will handle it!” says JFK to everyone in a whisper. “He’s still gay! It was always so! And I’m sure he’s right here. …I can see him!” The demon impersonating Lem pats JFK on the back.

“I don’t want your pity!!” yells Joe Jr..

“Maybe she was just my girl.” says Joe Sr. thoughtfully.

“Why did you use me?!?” asks Joe Jr. of Lacey.

“I didn’t mean to. How did I?” asks Lacey.

“Lem…will make it all go away.” says JFK in various iterations while being ushered around by Bobby who’s trying desperately to control the mess.

“I think I’m possibly in love!” says Joe Sr..

“No dad! Mom’s not here right now! …You’re delusional! Breakfast is in the morning not at night! Learn to read!” says JFK to his father seriously.

“No, no! No! NO! I’m not Marilyn Monroe or Jack reincarnated.” says Lacey.

“I don’t even like breakfast anymore.” says Bobby.

“I hear Lem!!! He’s saying to leave him alone!” says Wobbly. “He’s saying he doesn’t want Lacey to sleep with him.”

“That’s not Lem!!” yells Lacey.

“No, that’s Kem! He was gay and you’re bothering them. They’re so good and innocent. And why do you want to bother them, you horrible woman. You fat, ugly, white! You pedophilic, violent, stupid bitch!” say most living gay men to Lacey.

“That’s not Lem!” Lacey insists.

“No, it is!! What do you know anyway?!?” they respond.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Lem!” says Wobbly.

“Yeah!!! It’s Lem!!!” says Joe Jr. laughing. He’s starting to suspect Lem and Lacey are sleeping together.

“I feel like that is Lem. And it’s for her own good she understand that.” says Wobbly smiling fondly.

Adventures In Your Own Backyard by Patrick Watson plays.

“I’m a victim!!!” yells Joe Jr..

And at that Lacey’s daughter falls and gets her head hurt. Has to go to the hospital. It makes Lacey livid. It was an accident that didn’t make sense. Vanny takes credit.

“The English made me do it!” Vanny yells.

“No, I doubt that.” says Lacey.

“You’re crazy!” says Vanny. “It was the English! Queen Elizabeth II told me personally to do it!”

“Yeah, and you have no way of knowing. You loser! …Lem was gay! Lem was gay. I repeat: Lem was gay!” say the gay men who want Lem-Cinderella.

“Lem isn’t helping you! He’d HATE you!” says a herd of more hateful gay men.

“I conjured them!!!” says Mr. Blue high as a kite.

“I love all this violence!” says Satan.

“Lem doesn’t seem to be gay!” says Lacey politely.

“You used me!!!” says Joe Jr. seriously.

Pat Wilson laughs.

“No, that’s Joe and he’s serious.” says Lacey.

“No, it isn’t. Joe is with me!” says Pat.

Joe isn’t. “You used me! …You love me, you just don’t think very well. …I need sex. You don’t put out. You don’t ever want sex.” starts Joe Jr..

Pat laughs condescendingly. She’s convinced Joe is with her.

“I think Joe loves me.” says Vanny psychically to psychics listening empathetically to her go on and on and on and on. Lacey overhears.

Lacey finally loses her patience. And at that she imagines slicing Joe Jr.’s head entirely off of his body.

“You don’t mean that!” he insists.

“No. I do!” she pleads with him.

“No!! She’s lying!” says Hell to Joe Jr..

“No, she’s not really violent. But you’re a murderous coward attacking her children now?” asks Lem of Joe.

“I’m not! You stole my wife.” says Joe.

“I doubt that!” says a gay man.

“Why?” asks Joe smiling.

“Because I may have dated men.” says Michael Rockefeller.

“You dated men?!?” asks Joe, half blind from demons.

“Yes! I may have. That’s the rumor.” says Michael.

“Yeah, well. My brother-“ Joe pauses. “Say, Lem…why do you lie to Jack and say you aren’t real? He’s awfully hurt.”

“I’m not Lem.” says Michael.

After a short while.

“I’m…pretty sure you are.” says Joe Jr..

“What makes you think that?” asks Michael using a suggestive tone.

“You slept with my wife!” says Joe Jr., upset.

“I slept with Lacey?” asks Michael.

“Yes! I can tell.” says Joe Jr.. “We used to be soulmates. I did love her…Lem.”

Come On Let’s Go by Broadcast.

“I’m not Lem, Joe.” says Michael.

“Mmm. Ha!” says Joe. “Okay.”

“I’m not gay, you know. I really do love Lacey.” says Michael.

“You were gay!! I don’t care how many times you sleep with Lacey.” says Joe.

“What if I enjoy it and I would have then too, though?!” says Michael.

“Well…that’s…I mean…you-Maybe she’s converting you or something.” says Joe.

“How would that work?” asks Michael.

“I’m sure if a person is sexy enough they can turn people into lovers!” says Joe.

“Then why can’t she keep you?” asks Michael.

“Because…I’m a man. And I’m actually more attractive than she is.” says Joe Jr..

“Then why do you care?” asks Michael.

“I don’t care. She cares.” says Joe. He turns to Michael, squints and sees a man who vaguely resembles Lem. “I like your new height. You’re tall but not so tall.” He looks away. “I don’t hate you, Lem. I just can’t get you out of my head. And Jack is love sick. Can’t you try to understand for a while longer?”

“Longer? I never did.” says Michael.

“Lem…you’ve been coming to Jack. In a way I understand but you should be careful.” says Joe Jr..

“No, I died. In the middle of collecting Asmat art.” says Michael.

Joe thinks. He looks at Michael.

“Who are you?” asks Joe.

“I’m Michael. You can call me Mike.” says Michael.

Blood In The Cut by K.Flay plays.

The drummer beats.

“And the beat goes on!” says Joe, smiling.

“Oh! Cher!” says Michael.

“Yeah. Aren’t you gay too?!” asks Joe.

“No. No, I’m more attracted to women than you are?” asks Michael.

Joe cries. “WHO ARE YOU?!?” he yells.

Elliott ties Joe to his chair. Lem arrives, wraps his arms around Joe. Gets his face in Joe’s face.

“We weren’t trying to punk you. Were we?” says Lem. “No, I’m straight. Very straight. Now, then, always. Or I keep telling her that for a reason. Which would be what? Her destruction? Your destruction? …To remurder her son Jack? Or what? …I was never in love with Jack. And you know…it’s fun to have this conversation with you. Finally clear the air. …Yeah, your marriage would have died. And I might not be ready to admit how likely it is that I would have had an affair with your wife. But…would she ever have really been your wife if you premised it all with nothing but homicidal lies?” asks Lem.

“That’s Lem or a demon doing a very, very good impersonation. Like…almost identical. Completely. Or it’s just him.” say American old money and English witches.

And at that Michael raises his hand to have Joe carried off by Indian servants of the British Empire in the 1800’s. The men don’t look at Joe. They carry him kindly to a dimly lit, drably painted, English in India room. Shut the door. Consider locking it. …Lock it.

Pray to God. Bow before Him.

Then they stand-up, walk-off.

The Indians walk-off.

The Trip by Still Corners plays again. This time more bass. This time more emphasis on the beat. This time more power. This time the Holy Spirit shows up with warring angels from Heaven. Trillions of them. To do God’s bidding.

Joe sits. Staring at an old fireplace. The music plays. He’s tied-up. He thinks. He thinks. He thinks.

Then he thinks he’s lost her.

“If this is real…then you have. But it’s what you decided. Right?” Lacey apologizes in 2023. “If it’s what you decided then…maybe it’s going to be okay? If not then why?”

“Yeah!” he spits.

“Joe, I have no idea what you mean by that.” says Lacey.

He laughs. “You laugh at me. In an honest way. Pat doesn’t.” He thinks. “She has no idea what an idiot I can actually be.”

Sodus by Cemeteries plays.

She feels his love tugging on her like fate. Like she is called to be honorable through marriage. He may have actually truly needed her.

“No one gets me like you do.” he says frankly.

Then she hears the melody. Be it Heaven or Hell it makes her want to bob her head to the beat.

The English push her back. And feeling a cool breeze she flies backward or forward or sideways or wherever God directs. As He is God. He is God. Jesus Christ is His only begotten son. He’s God The Father, as part of the Godhead of Him, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The Holy Trinity. The only God.

“Joe, I think maybe it isn’t right anymore.” says Lacey.

Lacey flies. It’s lovely.

“I guess the British win?” she asks Michael, feeling lonely.

Lem smiles.

“Not every battle.” says Lem. Then he closes his eyes and cries.

“No. For you they win. Every battle. Always.” says Lem.

“I’m sorry. I had it partially right.” says Scott.

And suddenly for Lacey, in her world, the British Empire returns. Perfect. Just. Perfect.

“What’s changed?” she asks Lois Schurke.

“Not much for you.” she says.

“It’s not likely even reincarnation is it?” asks Lacey.

“No!” says Lois in irritation, rising to walk to the kitchen of her house.

“It’s Christianity?” asks Lacey, yelling slightly.

Lois nods. Shows a side of her personality reserved for her peers. “Yeah, it’s Christianity.”

Lacey thinks. “Wasn’t your father a Minneapolis police officer?”

Lois laughs. “It’s okay. We’re fine. You did nothing. …You were just born!” she weeps.

“I don’t know if you’re pretending I’m the daughter of Tommy Banks or if I really am by birth and not just seeming post-mortem adoption. …But…it is funny. You know, Marcia’s father was in the Minneapolis police force too.” says Lacey. “You remember Marcia?”

“Yeah! Becca.” says Lois. “What are we going to call her?”

“Would you still be able to be her friend?” asks Lacey. Michael and Lem join them.

“My Marcia!” says Henry.

He almost manifests in Lacey’s room. A light flickers.

“Marcia. She can be a dear.” says Lacey.

“We won’t be friends!” says Lois. “We’ll be sisters-in-Christ.”

“That sounds very functional.” says Lacey.

“Lois looks hot!!” says Mr. Blue.

“She was very beautiful.” says Lacey.

“I think I have a thing for women of that generational genetic makeup.” says Mr. Blue.

“Is it normal or not?” asks a Satanist of Mr. Blue. “Is it sane? …Is it grounded in reality? …Is it right? …Is it wrong? Be careful.