Lacey’s family has a friend who lives in Woodbury. Woodbury, Minnesota. She’s lived there for years. Joni. And Joni’s daughters were popular. And one of them knew the girl who famously took the synthetic drug version of acid. The synthetic acid that killed her.
“It was hellish.” she says.
She’s talked to Lacey on and off for years.
She reminds Lacey of Saoirse slightly, actually.
Yes. Saoirse talked to Lacey and told her why she killed herself.
“I was sick of being forced to act happy. All…the…time.” says Saoirse. “They force you to be ‘on’ in all social situations.”
“Lacey’s life has been no different, Saoirse.” says Lem.
“Anyway…” says the young woman who died in Woodbury.
Reckoner by Radiohead plays.
“I died a horrific death.” says the young woman in Woodbury. “I laid there for hours and the girl who was supposed to be my friend just sat there with her mouth open staring at me for hours. She just sat there.
Yeah. She got help. Eventually! …But for hours she actually just sat there. Like a total zombie.
It was so hurtful.
And yes. Yes, Lemmers. Fuck you, you DUMBASS.
Yes. Lacey has had a horrific life. And honestly most of it is your fault in at least some roundabout way.
I died…in part…because I had a shitty friend.” says the young woman from Woodbury.
“Were you rich?” asks a man.
“Yes!! So was my friend.” she says. “That’s beyond the point.
The point is…I was left to die. And given a deadly drug. By my supposed friends.
And nobody investigated it much…because I was a victim of the Jack and Lem mythology. I was à subconsciously perceived as being in a secret homosexual relationship with my friend. Why? Because that’s what police and most people have been brainwashed into believing now. …Because Jack is a dark sociopath with narcissistic tendencies…and they can’t figure out what actually happened historians have invented an intimacy between them that’s untouchable and beyond our comprehension. They can’t figure it out. They can’t figure out that Jack was mostly bisexual and Lem was straight. Or rather that Jack was mostly gay. Excuse me. So…rather than deal with that question by leaving it alone if they can’t figure it out with intellectual integrity…we know have a fake, dangerous mythology.
People think I was…in some psychological sexual relationship with my drug buddy. Like…we experienced the high in unison in some weird sexual union for living people to experience together. Like their souls left their bodies and hey experienced hot sex without ever touching each other and with Jack only on the receiving end of oral sex.
Gay men are too often narcissistic, idiotic fools. Why? Oh!! Oh! They’re hurt!? They’re hurt!? …What’s wrong with them? Are they mentally ill sexually psychotic narcissists like the established psychological community used to believe or are they simply all mentally unstable jackasses through hundreds of societal abuse? Kind of reminds you of the societally endemic situation with Black people. Right? What’s their fault and what’s society’s fault? But be careful because it’s not the same topic.” she says.
“I like you!” says a white tiki torch southerner.
“Why are you coming on to her?” asks Lacey.
“Because she’s hot. And I love her mind.
Actually…I do.
Umm…” he winks at her.
“We can’t all have sex with the living.” says Tara, to explain.
“Oh. Okay.” he says. He laughs.
“Are you serious!?!” asks The Economist of him.
“Yeah! She’s hot. I’m sorry. And…honestly…at times…it’s just bad out there.” he says.
A psychic laughs.
“I haven’t had a good date in years.” he admits.
“That’s sad.” says a psychic.
“We can’t. Sorry.” says Tara, laughing.
“Damn!” he says. “What!? I thought I’d try.” he says to someone else.
“Anyway…I was left to die because people assumed I was in a romantic relationship with my friend. A weird homosexual relationship.
I was straight. She may or may not be.
But…they assume I was ‘going with her.‘ Because it makes them feel better about themselves and life in general. They don’t have to worry about the deeply unsettling sociopathic-scary-shit that’s too difficult for them to sort through in their heads. …They can just be…shallow, weak and passive. They can admonish people who scare them…slap their hands…and then forget about it.
They can’t be trusted. The people minding the till of our collective minds…can’t be trusted.” says Tara.
“Yeah! She’s right!” says Lacey’s neighbor, who’s possibly still subconsciously listening.
“Are you hitting on her?” asks MSNBC.
“No. I’m…” he says, awkwardly. “I’m…just…agreeing.”
“Tara. You have Lemmer’s hot sexuality.” says China.
“Yes. I was blessed.” says Tara.
“So it’s part of why. It’s a way of getting lesser sociopaths a superior-sex-buddy.” says China. “They are so desperate for recognition and status in America they are inventing fake, impossible sex scenarios.”
India laughs with China.
“What!?” says MSNBC.
“Wait! Hold on!
Why did you think her answer would be different for you?” Fox asks Lacey’s neighbor.
He looks awkward. “I’m not sure what you are talking about.”
“Yes. You do.
But anyway.
What do you- Why did you think the answer would be different?” asks Fox News.
“Because he’s Lacey’s neighbor and he figured there could be a better psychic connection.” says his wife.
“What’s wrong with your marriage? Not that the Illuminati doesn’t already know.” says Fox News.
He looks shaken in his spirit. “She’s just…mean sometimes.” he says.
“Who!!? Your wife!??” says Fox News.
“We have our differences. About money. And lots of other things.” says her neighbor. “Nothing abnormal.”
Fox News laughs.
“What!?” says her neighbor.
“Dude. Do you hit on Lacey?” asks the GOP.
“You know if you do…that’s not appreciated by her in this case. Because…there’s not a fantastic connection between you two like there is with some people. And…you’re neighbors.” says Fox News.
“I’m sad.” says her neighbor.
“We know.” says the Illuminati.
“But you’re also happy sometimes.” says MSNBC.
“Yup.” he says. He grins.
“Would you ever kill Lacey?” asks Bobby.
Her neighbor looks baffled and disturbed. “What!?”
“So…anyways.” says the American south.
“Tara…that’s an interesting observation.
What was it like dying that way?” asks Fox News.
“I wanted to be like Lem. …A rich 1960’s person who does drugs. …But…I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I’m Tara Fitzgerald. And Lacey’s beauty is what I was aiming for. Okay? She was hot in person and still is…but not as a 20 something. And no cameras don’t capture her.
Get it!? TARA FITZGERALD. TARA. Like Gone With The Wind. Scott’s a Confederate Irishman? I’m a ghost.
Anyway…I was accidentally sacrificed. Due to Illuminati witchcraft… And that’s why Saoirse died, in part. Because…basically Hell couldn’t afford to keep Saoirse alive anymore. When you live off witchcraft and lies like the Kennedys have…you have…problems. At least eventually.
And yes. Part of the reason why Saoirse had to die was because I was assigned the role of Lem. The sweet…sexy…smart…tragic one, so to speak.” says Tara.
“So Jack sacrificed Michael and Lacey to get Lem to have a real homosexual erection for him.” says the Illuminati.
“Yup!” says a demon. “That man was damn desperate!”
“What else had he tried?” asks the Illuminati.
“He tried just raping him and hoping it would magically turn into something real, most often. That was frequent. But he also tried drugs and alcohol. Lem didn’t want it so he refused the drugs. But he was already drunk on occasion so Jack tried him then. And that didn’t work.
Ahh…he…tried witchcraft before he contacted the Illuminati. Voodoo.
He tried to seduce Lem. Many times. That didn’t work either.
Ahh…he tried making Lem jealous. And he actually was evil to him. But at times he tried making Lem jealous on purpose. And…he tried to be kind to him at times too. Buying him things.
He wore perfume for Lem.
He…prayed.
Yah. He was so so depressed and desperate. But…instead of letting it go…he resorted to killing Michael and sacrificing Lacey. He knew about soulmates. And twin flames. So…he…thought Lem had a wife somewhere and he wanted to sacrifice her. And when that didn’t work…he sacrificed Michael.
But…that was around the beginning of his Presidency. By 1963 he was dead.
He sacrificed five other people too. Besides Lem and Michael. None of them worked.
And so he tried beating Lem with the back of a gun. And…he’d physically beat him up before to get Lem to even do what he wanted. Sometimes Lem got tired of pretending to be gay. He got nothing out of it. But sometimes he just…couldn’t stomach it so Jack had to threaten his life and his family’s life again.
…Lem just…wasn’t attracted to men.
*the demon shrugs*
So…we tried to help him…but…you can’t alter something like that. So…he was fit to be tied.” says the demon.
“Why did he even want it that badly?” asks a psychic.
“Jealousy. Hatred. Envy. Lust…
Ahh…mostly intense hatred?
But also he wanted to be loved.
He-“ the demon laughs. Cracks-up laughing. “He assumed that Lem’s wife was really lovable.”
Satan laughs.
“She is lovable. To her own people and her husband.” says Great Britain.
“But other people might not automatically adore us?” asks Jack Spencer. He laughs.
“Okay! So here’s the thing!
She’s nice.
I can tell she’s nice.
She’s a very loving person. By nature, even.
But-
*He seems too distracted by his life for a moment.*
But she’s…fierce. And it’s an adjustment for us.” her male neighbor says.
“So she’s not actually lovable. Even though theoretically it seems like she would be.” says Casi.
“We love her.” says Lane Pryce.
“We might be able to?” says her neighbor.
“Why is it so hard!?” says Casi.
“She’s…fierce. Casi…come on. Scottish people are real.” says Lacey’s male neighbor.
“So…we love her. But…she’s charming. Not lovable. And she’s…kind and loving…and elegant and beautiful and all that…but not lovable. Queen Elizabeth might have loved her. But…maybe…she’s not that…open hearts with most people? Because she can’t be.” says Great Britain.
“She is open hearted though!” says Casi.
“Mmm. Not…really.” says her neighbor.
“So…Jack thought he was far cooler than her. And he thought if he could get her to become him…he’d be so SO loved. Not just by Lem but by the British and lots of other people. EVERYWHERE. He also had similar obsessions with Winston Churchill. He wanted his glory too. He was a soul sucker.” says a demon.
“Why did he misunderstand people so much?” asks a woman.
“Because he was a dysfunctional narcissist. And he was…a hick.” says the demon. “I don’t usually work with poor people. Some people blame the whole situation on me.
‘Why didn’t you let him die!??’ and stuff like that. But…ahh…I was assigned to him. And…maybe I was just inexperienced. You know? It was a new thing. Very rarely in human history have I even encountered a man who’s so poor and rich at the same time. But that’s America. Nothing is new under the sun…but…that’s not to say that nothing is new in any way ever. So…overall things remain. But specifics change.
Anyway…Jack was a very bad experience.” says a demon assigned to Jack.
“So…he thought everyone was going to love him and worship him. And it’s not even possible but…
Is that why he doesn’t give up? He’s obsessed with his dream?” asks a reader.
“No. He’s psychotic. And it’s a shame.” says a reader.
Later.
Turns out Lacey infiltrated the Kennedys with the use of musical theater. Decades ago.
Jack couldn’t resist a good show-stopping dance number set to music. And neither could Joe Jr.. Not as a mother. As a choreographer. There were hours of happy dance recitals. Dance recitals where Joe Jr. walked away breathless and exhausted. JP even started getting involved.
“Who was the bitter peach creator?” asks Tom Ford.
“Mark.” says Lacey. “But I don’t think I’m bitter.”
“Tom. It’s not a bitter fragrance.” says a Wertheimer.
“I imagined bitterness.” says Tom.
“That’s not bitterness, necessarily. A lot of fragrances smell bitter if this one is bitter.” says Lacey.
“Am I bitter?” asks Lane Pryce.
“He’d have to say yes, if he was being honest.” says the CIA.
“Yup! And I bet he’s an asshole…who would definitely…say I’m gay.“ says Lane Pryce.
“You like my fragrances!” Tom Ford says to Lacey.
“Yes!” says Lacey.
“So who’s the one who made you sad?” says Tom Ford.
“Yeah you were possibly confusing my personality with my sadness.
Mark. My legal husband.” says Lacey. “I’m not sure you care though.”
“See! I assumed her personality and her sadness were the same thing, in essence. …And…turns out she’s sweet but not like a peach. But like an apricot. …Or she’s sweet like a I don’t know. But anyway…I thought she was bitter because of Diego.” says Tom Ford. “And Chris.”
“You know what’s a real laugh, Tom? …Her legal husband might be St. Augustine. Who was from North Africa. So…she is a literal bitter….PEACH.” jokes an elite woman in the Illuminati.
Lacey laughs.
“Yeah. He’s more Black than her. For certain.” says Egypt.
Lacey laughs.
“No. I’m not laughing to correct the last statement. Even if I should. Necessarily. I’m just trying to express humor about it.” says Lacey.
“Okay. This is light years away from what I thought was happening.” says JFK.
“Tom are you bitter?” asks a reader.
“YES!!” he says.
Later.
Tom Ford rolls on the ground laughing. He can’t stand Lacey. …That being said…it’s funny. *He shrugs* Jack…*He laughs with her* why did you…ahh…get shot? Like…let’s just say…you were truly trying to become her. *He snickers* Why do you think you got shot?
“You don’t really like me either in America.” says Casi Brooke Hart.
“I thought…he’s cheap.” says Jack. “He’s a savior for sale. On sale. I get ‘em cheap!”
“Okay. But…why do you think you got shot?” says Tom Ford.
“I got shot!??” asks Jack.
“Yes!!” says Tom Ford.
“Yeah. Okay. That’s what the doctors say!” says Jack, with suspicion. “It’s not my opinion.”
Tom Ford smiles like Lem Billings used to. Tries not to laugh.
“What’s this all about?” asks Jack.
“You got shot.” says Tom Ford, blinking how Lem used to blink.
Jack eyes him. Stares at him.
“Jack. He’s rich.” says someone.
“He’s sexy like Lem!” he says laughing.
“He is Lem!” says Ethel.
“No. He’s not.” says JFK, sadly.
“Jack why do you think you got shot!?” asks Tom Ford.
“Listen.
You think I got shot.” says JFK.
“What really happened, Jack?” asks a white conspiracy theorist.
“Okay!
Buckle up!
*He clears his throat.*
I got married.
*He laughs.*
*He waves his hand around.*
I got married to a demon.” he says.
“But then technically you got shot Jack.” says Tom Ford.
“That is the way my body was attacked.” says JFK.
“How was that…not just what happened?” asks Tom Ford.
“It was what happened.” says Jack, sounding exhausted with him.
“So what you’re saying is that Jack…was technically shot by a bullet but it was really the demon sex that killed him?” asks Tom Ford.
“I was so married. …To sex.” says Jack. “My lust was what I was married to.
You could have been a part of it. It’s true.”
“Sexy times!” says Tom Ford.
Jack laughs. Seems like JFK again. Smiles.
“You make me smile.” says JFK.
Tom Ford laughs.
“No. I was shot.” says JFK.
“Jack you’re flirting with him. Did you know that!?” says Ethel.
Jack almost rolls his eyes. Refuses to answer.
“Lacey!! What happened with you and Mark!??” asks Dr. Moritz.
“Oh my God! Who CARES!!?” says Tom Ford.
“A lot of people!” says Dr. Moritz. “Whether we love her or not. It’s fascinating.”
“It’s not that fascinating!” says Tom Ford.
“Actually it is.” says Dr. Moritz.
“Why!? Because he’s Saint Augustine?” says Tom Ford.
Dr. Moritz rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s hear why.”
Silence and the sound of Lacey eating a sandwich.
“Lacey!! Tell us!” says Dr. Moritz.
She takes a deep breath.
Dr. Moritz looks baffled.
“Lacey!! Go on!” says America.
“With what!??” she says in horror.
“You’re supposed to have a story!” says America.
“Am I!? Hmm.
*she furrows her brow*
Why!?” she asks.
“We all have stories.” says Dr. Moritz.
“Yes! I’m writing this.” says Lacey. “Are you that stupid!?”
“No. Lacey…people have stories!!” says Dr. Moritz.
“Yes. True? I don’t. I don’t think like that at all.” says Lacey.
“So we all just talk at you. All of the time.” says Tom Ford.
“Yes. But you make lots of days far more interesting that way. You’re all fascinating people.” says Lacey.
“So what’s your story!?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“I don’t think that way.” says Lacey.
“So…you just…don’t think?” asks a reader.
“Non. I thinks. A LOT.” says Lacey. “I’m very introspective.”
“Okay. So how many British people are like that??” asks Ireland.
“You’re not us!” says Lane Pryce.
Later.
“So what’s your story?” asks Dr. Moritz.
Lacey has no idea what to say. Tries to think of what they are asking for.
“Do you…start somewhere?” asks Lacey.
“Do you think I’m asking for your life story?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“Mmm…no. But what are you asking for?” asks Lacey.
“So you have a photographic memory?!?” he says.
“Close.” says Lacey.
“Okay. So…people who don’t recall every detail of their life at will like you, or who aren’t narcissists and struggle to recall it with more average intelligence…tend to have stories. Like…ideas of their lives.” he says.
“Yes! I’m not a narcissist. I could share my story. That’s what I was trying to say. I’m a writer. But I have no idea what you’re looking for.” says Lacey.
“Well you have to start somewhere!” he says.
“Yes, but where?” says Lacey, trying to be patient.
Later.
“Where!?” says Dr. Moritz. “With my dick.”
“Who’s your dick?” asks Lacey.
“Me.” he says.
“I’ve never seen your dick. I have no idea…what you’re looking for me to say.” says Lacey.
“It’s size and shape?” he says.
“I have no idea.” says Lacey.
“Do you know what Lem’s dick looks like?” he asks.
“Vaguely, yes.” says Lacey.
Lane Pryce laughs.
“So then you have a crush on Lemmers. You stare at his dick.” says JFK.
“No. I have looked. But I’ve seen it.” says Lacey.
Jack goes on and on narcissistically.
“Okay. So…you’ve seen a cock.” says Dr. Moritz.
“I’ve seen five cocks my whole life. And I don’t count changing diapers or being molested of course. And I’ve experienced a few more, of course with other men who are ghosts.” says Lacey.
“Did you want to see my cock?” he asks.
“See it?” says Lacey. “Do you want me to take pictures?”
Dr. Torsten laughs.
She waits.
“No. Women want to see cocks!” he says.
“I’ve heard that’s not true. Isn’t that what women are always saying in the media? …I’ve never had a man send me a dick picture ever.
I have no idea what you’re trying to get at, by the way.” says Lacey.
“So that’s repulsive to you?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“Seeing a penis? Seeing a man’s penis!? …No!? But…why does one to see it?” asks Lacey. “Just to see it!? I mean…my God help me…just to see to see it!??”
“No. I mean…to arouse you.” he says.
“How is that arousing? It’s creepy.” says Lacey.
“Because it’s a penis!” he says.
“So you think your penis is PRETTY!?!” says Lacey. “Yuck!”
“Okay. What if Lem sent you that photo?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“He never would do that. He’d just ask me to come over.” says Lacey. “It’s like you’re a vain woman.”
“You can’t tell me that!” says Dr. Moritz.
“Why!?” asks Lacey.
Lane laughs.
“Why don’t you women like to see dick pics!?” he asks.
“It’s annoying. What are you going to do with it? Stand there all night and ask me to admire you?” asks Lacey.
“It seems pointless and embarrassing to me too.” says Lane.
“What do you get out of that current sexual practice?” asks Lem.
“It’s sexy.” says Dr. Moritz.
“Not really. It’s annoying.” says Lacey.
“I don’t understand why?” says Dr. Moritz.
“She’s already patiently told you.” says Lem.
“I have a huge cock.” he says.
“Oh. Okay. So you’re showing off.” says Lacey.
He laughs. “Yes.”
She waits.
“So that’s arousing.” he says.
“Oh! Because it would theoretically feel good.” says Lacey. She sighs, exasperated. “Do you want an award?”
“From award winning penis, Dr. Moritz, comes an orgasm you’ve never imagined! Press the red button now on your remote and pay $2 million Dollars to purchase.” says Jerome Hill, making a joke.
“So what’s the point!?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“Of what!??!?” asks Lacey.
“So how does one come on to you?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“If you don’t know that you can’t possibly make love to me.” says Lacey. “What are you? Nothing?”
“It’s true. We never slept together.” says Dr. Moritz.
“Right. …So…” says Lacey.
“I don’t like coming on to women.” he says.
“Because you’re a pedophilic monster, secretly? I hope not. …Or why? You’re asexual?” says Lacey.
“I’m…sorry I never sent you a dick pic.” he says.
“I’d have been…not…impressed.” says Lacey. “Not aroused.”
“But you’d send photos.” says Dr. Moritz.
“Yes. She’s sent many to me.” says Lem. “But I like them.”
“How!??” asks Dr. Moritz.
“Using her phone.” says Lem. “She takes them. Asks God to send them. And then erases them. And no…nobody sees them. They’re for me.”
“What car do you drive ideally?” aks Dr. Moritz.
“A Camaro!” jokes Lacey. “No.” she thinks. “I’d ride in other cars. But it’s a car. So a Land Rover is nice. But…Audis are safer, I think.”
“How do you make your money?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“My legal husband works. We made that agreement in 2011. …Before we got married. But I am given money every once and a while by the parents who raised me. And it’s not because I was molested.” says Lacey. “At least they’d never claim that even if they are that insane and evil and that’s not how I choose to receive it.”
Curt, Lacey’s cousin, laughs. “No. Our parents help out a lot. I was never molested. But they’re always very good at giving us money.”
“They buy houses and cars.” says Sheri, his sister.
“Why!??” he asks Lacey.
“Why what!?” says Lacey.
“You liked me.” he says.
“Do you have a point to anything you say?” she says.
He sighs. Thinks. Deeply.
“Hurry up!! Answer!!” says Lacey, losing patience.
“Fine you’re not a child.” he says.
“I’m 40 fucking years old! How immature and dumb are women you usually date!??” says Lacey.
He laughs. Thinks. “We didn’t date.”
“No. We talked.” says Lacey. “But to a mature adult it’s the same, because a mature adult isn’t an evil con artist who conjures a need to be pedantic.”
“I’ll use that.” says Dr. Moritz.
“Why?” says Lacey.
“Okay. Are you using that to hurt someone in future or to make a commentary?” says Lane Pryce.
And at that Dr. Moritz tries to physically fight Lane Pryce.
“Oh look! Now it’s a lame!” says a queer psychic.
But Lane picks him up and throws him off a cliff.
“It was a simple question!” says Lane.
Lacey sighs. “He had trouble with simple questions.”
“Oh well.” says Lane.
“I’m disappointed.” says Lacey. “I was going to tell him something and talk about myself for once in maybe…years…or at least figure out what everyone is so awkward about. And what they’re all doing. Oh well.” says Lacey.
“Why don’t you own your own house?” asks Curt of Lacey.
“Oh! You mean why is the bank my landlord?” asks Lacey.
“Yes!” says Curt.
“Because my house is under $500,000.00?” says Lacey.
“Yes!” says Curt.
“Oh! There’s a reason!!” says Lacey.
“Why?” he asks.
“They spent $150,000 in England.” says Lane Pryce.
“HOW!??” asks Ron.
“Her husband was born into money…but…new money…and he had no idea what he was doing with her.” says Lane.
“Well he’s good with money, though.” says Curt.
“Yes! But…he’s a fool with her.” says Lane.
“What did he do?!?” says Curt.
“He couldn’t figure out how to make her stop crying. So…he bought her…thousands of Dollars of Eggs Benedicts, Chateau Margaux, and diamonds.” says Lane.
Curt laughs. “He’s a tiny bit autistic.” he says.
“He’s also bad with her.” says Lane.
“Lane. Why did you commit suicide?” asks a reader.
“Why can’t she ever talk about herself?” says Lane.
“You’re not Lane!!” says Dr. Moritz.
“No. I am.” says Lane.
“Alright. Who’s dick did you see!??” says Dr. Moritz.
“Elliott, Lem, Joe Kennedy Senior, my legal husband, and my first serious boyfriend Chris Dodds.“ says Lacey. “Not the US Senator.”
“What about me?” asks Alex.
“Oh yes.” says Lacey. “Right!”
“So six.” says Lane.
Later.
“So you saw- Your first boyfriend’s name was Chris Dodds?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“Yup!” says Lane.
“SHIT!!” says Dr. Moritz. “He was just a short, Italian-type guy named Chris Dodds.”
“Yes.” says the CIA.
“Why did you date him?” asks Dr. Moritz.
“That’s a long story. Let’s not talk about it.” says Lacey, feeling practically nauseous at the thought.
“I asked her out.” says Chris.
“Okay.” says Dr. Moritz.
“So her legal husband…was ahh…a bad relationship. But…she loved him and…she’s extremely beautiful and loving so they got married.” says Lem.
“What a depressing life.” says Dr. Moritz.
Keen to Cross the Pond 
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