Author Archives: L.

Lacey has no problem being ugly, although she’s not. The Loudest Perfume Hater likely hoped Lacey was insecure and would be flummoxed and angry when she said she eventually ranted on Instagram in 2019 or so about how literally ugly and stupid she was. But…Lacey isn’t egotistical. At all.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac plays.

Instead Lacey knows rationally that she’s not ugly or stupid based on science. Like…actual factual reality. In fact she knows she’s likely extremely gifted in her beauty and intelligence. Melania Trump is the ideal of beauty today and has been for a few decades. Every Liberal woman who hated on her in a catty was always suspect to Lacey as still is. Because…all Democrats lied about how elegant and pretty Melania was. At least Lacey never saw anyone being honest about it. It was creepy and disturbing because it spoke to the shallowness of their entire intellectual terrain. If they’re the self-proclaimed party of female liberation and sexual freedom…why was such a late 20th Century/Early 21st Century perfect looking woman never calmly identified as such?

Are Democratic or Liberal women objectively uglier? The Loudest Perfume Hater is hideous compared to Lacey and The Loudest Perfume Hater is proudly and self-righteously Liberal. She’s also racist, Southern-Christian-religious and generally loud, pushy, ignorant, idiotic in what she says and just generally obnoxious. Or is she? …As in, did she die of an opioid overdose? She definitely was likely an addict enabled as heroin addicts were by the “perfume community?” One really did overdose. The same “community” that’s so continuously self-righteous about Lacey possibly rightly calling them overly-competitive and bourgeois.

The thing is…Lacey hopes The Loudest Perfume Hater isn’t dead. She actually was concerned about her in that regard. As pushy, loud, incorrect and ignorant as she could be. And actually…who cares, in the best way possible, if The Loudest Perfume Hater was ugly compared to Lacey? To The Loudest Perfume Hater’s significant others she was beautiful. Most likely. That’s the sense Lacey certainly had. And ironically she’s probably been loved more at this point than Lacey has (at least by the living) so…what’s the point? It’s what? Ego? It’s actually a very fascinating thing to consider.

Dreams plays on.

The thing is…women who are almost as pretty as Melania but are more towards stringy and gawky than sleek and elegant Melania is…are often violent. You see them doing psychologically violent poses everywhere. Tilting their heads or glaring viciously into the camera like they are saying, “I AM BEAUTIFUL! I AM BETTER THAN YOU!! BOW DOWN!!” And as a truly straight, tender-hearted, sensitive, empathetic woman Lacey is grossed-out or confused and has eventually become enraged by these genuine psychological terrorists. They’re visual rapist pigs. But their deranged bullshit is celebrated by society as progressive, strong, and most offensively as girly, sexy and glamorous. It’s not. It’s condoned female violence. They’re foul, manipulative predators. But because they’re women they’re allowed, at best, to be Harvey Weinstein. At worst to be serial killers. Because they don’t do it so assertively.

And…like cheap-shit bullies they’re often moronic compared to Lacey, in one of the worst stereotypes possible. Truly moronic. Intellectual lightweights. Real intellectual morons. And almost always their aggression is objectively weak compared to Lacey’s actual might and strength even as she’s objectively more feminine. They’re tiny, self-important lizards and Lacey is a dinosaur.

So should she step on them? It’s so tempting to kill them with one quick smash of her foot they’re SO gross and SUCH a pest. …But Lacey is DEEPLY loving. Very maternal. Incredibly kind and empathetic. So she ALWAYS holds herself back from ripping them apart and tempting them to kill themselves.

“She could have convinced me to kill myself too.“ says JFK. “But…she wouldn’t have.”

“True.” says Lacey.

“Lacey is very dangerous.” says JFK. “If she’s illegitimate it’s just logical. Try actually thinking about it for once.”

“But it rests not on my hate or ego but my love.” says Lacey.

“That sounds stupid!” says a woman who makes people think she’s pretty by insisting on it subconsciously in all her interactions. She’d like to kill Lacey for real but she’s too busy being too skinny, wearing Chanel flap bags and tan denim. She makes a “cute” pose with her legs and tries to be effortlessly intimidating. “I didn’t realize I was literally declaring war on you.” she says to Lacey.

“What the fuck else have you bitches been doing Lacey’s whole life?!? You’d think women’s lib would have taught you that war is war.” says Al Capone. “What are you doing with all these poses? Think!!”

“I’m being pretty for you!” says a particularly violent woman trying to be coy and helpless and sexually arousing.

“SHUT-UP! YOU’RE NOT THAT STUPID! What do you take me for? A country bumpkin with cash to burn, you whore?!” responds Al Capone.

“I think she could take you out!” says a male Gen X Fox News anchor to Al.

“You clown!!” spits Al.

“No! No…Al Capone never existed. These women aren’t just violent, cheap, American whores and Al Capone owned a barbershop in Mayberry. …I don’t think you can handle reality.” says Lacey. “At least not this part of it.”

“Then where’s actual womanhood?” asks the male Fox News anchor.

“Maybe we starting killing off both traditional genders in the 1980’s and 1990’s? Late 1960’s and 70’s?” says Lacey. “Maybe it’s been showing-up in our genetics. In generational micro evolution since the 1960’s? …You’re actually slightly effeminate.” she says to the male Fox News anchor.

“But not gay?” he asks stupidly.

“No! Are you slightly lesbian?” Lacey asks.

He smiles. “No!”

“Actually…a man could be more effeminate than he should be and still be just a man and be straight too. Right?” asks Lacey.

He thinks. “Actually…maybe. But then what is it? Chemical?!? Cultural?” he asks.

“All that and more.” says Michael Rockefeller.

Chemtrails Over The Country Club plays.

“Petroleum is rich with estrogen. But then what happened to women?” asks Lacey.

“No! You all aren’t necessarily as fertile.” says Lem.

“Would Melania have been beautiful in the 1940’s?” asks the Fox News anchor.

“Not as beautiful.” says Ginger Rogers.

“No! She’s not Lana Turner. Or Veronica Lake. It’s subtle but she’s not.” says Edith Head.

Muslims are intrigued. “Is our late 20th Century extremism a reaction to what we observed happening genetically?” the laugh sadly. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” they say to Lacey.

She sighs. “Do you think it’s oil? And coal?”

“Maybe! But…it’s not a complete explanation necessarily.” the Muslim man says.

“Yes! Very true.” says Lacey.

“Isn’t this just bad news for kids?” asks a Liberal actor of Lacey.

“They’re already being brutally molested in the Illuminati. And in the bullshit-media. I doubt they’re that egotistically-fragile anymore. If they grow-up and righteously slit everyone’s throats I’ll cheer them on.” says Lacey. “Get a fucking clue!!”

“Don’t worry! We’ll indoctrinate them to be nice to us in school as we shit in their faces worse than our parents did. Take away their Earth. Exonerate pedophilic monsters who maybe actually are either better off bullied into safety or their own death. Ruin the economy!!! Act cold and bitchy toward them because ‘Liberal bullshit isn’t bullshit to Boomers’ as they’re basically all just narcissistic dictators. …Let infrastructure literally rot. Encourage billionaires to build plastic bullshit houses that will literally melt or rot badly in future. Once again, destroy land. …Ruin their childhood with extreme anxiety, not many friends, pandemics, death, starvation and more assholes who should possibly be shot.” says a once Democrat black woman. “No! I agree! I wanna help them not destroy themselves. The Boomers just destroyed themselves. …But…I would be proud if they were united and rationally overthrew us in the future. And I will pray for them daily not to fall into the bullshit lies and get confused. Y’all are heinous clowns. Not just clowns. Because…nah. She’s right. These white whores shaking their scrawny asses. Then getting surgery to cover-up for their genetic depravity. Fillers and reductions and such!” *she rolls her eyes* “They don’t look like ME! And they don’t look like Lacey.” (It’s unclear how she knows about Lacey) “They’re liars!!! And then they have kids and hope for the best or bully them if the kids are superior.”

Lacey takes over the entire Illuminati. For the third or fourth time. For God.

“That’s cheesy!” says a Charismatic Christian.

“I dunno. I’m kinda legitimately scared.” says a Kim K. seriously.

Lacey laughs. Lem laughs.

“See…and THIS is the problem we ALWAYS run into.” says the violent woman wearing tan denim and Chanel. She’s somewhat serious. “She preaches to us. We…listen.” She smiles. Orders something chic and gourmet and yummy in Orange County. A moment passes. “But…we are the Illuminati.” She thinks. “And think about what that means… Should we exist. …We’re relatively accustomed to people who think and reason like Lacey. And are usually gifted. And old money of varying degrees. And artistic. And BOLD. By nature or necessity. …The thing is…might makes right? Divine Right of Kings. Real Politik? Or even actual imperialism… All in our wheelhouse. And sometimes we worry about the afterlife because we’ve seen people actually levitate. Or we’ve seen ghosts manifest. And the thing is…we hear her. And…poor people hear her too. And that’s something middle-class people may or may not be able to handle. …I mean, it’s possible she was tricked by some spiritual force into almost dying by falling down the the stairs of her house. And I believe it’s possible Lem Billings actually did save her life with his father.” She thinks. “We aren’t immune to getting hurt. But we are the people who literally run the world. And that’s not scary to her in possibly a similar way to how it’s not scary to us. …But think about it! Could you truly handle us being in your head and almost driving you insane and possibly literally killing you multiple times? And then let me sound so smart? So…knowing? Maternal even. Or would you get totally lost? For years. Be honest.” She thinks. “No? Then that’s the problem with American so-called meritocracy.”

“Too much middle-class infiltration into the American elite?” asks Lacey.

“Yeah. I think so!” says the woman.

More later.

“The thing is…I’m not sure why some Christian people reading this don’t understand that Lacey isn’t able to escape from the Illuminati. She never necessarily meant to join, at all. …It was at least entirely accidental. And…she’s trying to fight them off. She’s not at all interested in joining Satanism. And it looks like nothing much but class warfare against the elite to secretly or openly assume the posture of Christian supremacy against her. …You might want her her to go to Hell for being genuinely superior to you based on human hierarchies where you lose, but that’s evil. You are being evil. YOU are being a witch. Trying to pretend to be Christian when you have sadistic, tone-deaf bloodlust.” says Lacey.

“She’s not attacking you with that paragraph. She’s trying to convict you all of sin.” says a man to the Charismatics.

“I try to be loving. Even open-minded. But…I don’t think I can handle the reality of what I read on this blog.” says Summertime Sadness.

“But you prey on people who need help?” asks a K. Perry of Summertime Sadness. “I mean, if you can’t handle what you read here…why do you pretend to be able to help truly hurting people? Isn’t that…kinda shitty?” She laughs. “For all you know I left the church because of people like you.” She looks at him empathetically. “People who pretend to offer help but are secretly scared.”

“The elite aren’t just a bunch of dumb clucks.” says Lacey. “It’s comforting to think that. But…be careful. If they’re smarter than you in reality…stop being so arrogant.” She thinks. “Ultimately God is smarter than all of us. Don’t think you’re smarter than God. Be very humble. Because every damn mistake you make will mean something to these people should they exist. …They sacrifice things. There’s not much talk of Christ’s redemption, to say the least.” She thinks.

“You’re probably not in the Illuminati.” says a white trailer trash guy to Lacey.

“You know, I certainly hope not. But at the same time…at times they’re also kinder and more honest than most people who say they’re Christians other than Catholics.” says Lacey. “Maybe some Calvinists.” She thinks.

“It’s like they have less to hide.” says the man in rural Virginia.

“Yes! And that’s sad. Isn’t it?! But…the American middle-class is difficult to get along with. At least for me.” says Lacey.

He nods in understanding. Looks sad for America.

“No, you’re legitimately sad.” says Lacey.

“True!” he says smiling and nodding.

They think.

“They don’t understand fear or pain the way we do!” says the black former Democrat.

“They mock people joining the Illuminati and yet…it’s so evil.” says Lacey.

The trailer trash man nods in understanding, smiling. “It’s evil. Yeah.”

“Haven’t they ever faced evil that way?” asks Lacey.

“Maybe not!” says the man thoughtfully. “No, they just don’t see it. It’s just a joke to them.”

“It’s not just a joke to me!” says Summertime Sadness with proud indignation.

“Oh really?!? Am I just a joke to you?!” asks the man. “Are my thoughts just a joke to you?! You say you care, but what you got going for you in reality that way? I don’t mean church. When do you help poor people?”

Summertime Sadness looks at him thoughtfully.

“Don’t be so sure I’m not a ghost. Or a living man in Virginia or Kentucky who is pissed off as Hell!” says the man.

“We were poor.” says Summertime Sadness.

“Okay, but like poor or middle-class and less fortunate?” asks Lacey.

“You’re not poor!” says the man.

“Crud!” says Summertime Sadness.

“So…just…please try to be humble.” says a Catholic to Summertime Sadness.

“What do you guys worship?” asks Summertime Sadness of the Illuminati.

“Baal. Allah. Satan. Buddhism. Some Hinduism.” says a former U.S. President.

“There are elements of Christianity in the Illuminati too.” says another U.S. President.

“The main focus seems to be on Satanism.” says Lacey.

“True!” says an old money man.

“There is a New Age emphasis too!” says a woman.

“Witchcraft of the old sort.“ says an English witch.

“Judaism and Kabbalah.” says an actor.

“But you guys are vicious.” protests a middle class woman.

“They are!” says Lacey. “I’m fighting for my life.”

“Is that funny to you?” asks the middle-class woman vindictively of Lacey.

K. Perry laughs. Lacey laughs.

“Not in a crazy way, per se. But yes!! It’s awful! I’m fighting for my life. But to me and possibly to a woman with the last name Perry it’s funny. Because she knows what they’ve done. And she knows how funny it is to me and possibly why. …I don’t want to die, because of my kids as out of respect for Christ. But…it’s somehow just funny to me. It’s like…my whole life I’ve been told to BE HAPPY!!! And then here they come with reality!” She thinks. “They’re honest and they actually are very fun to talk with at times.” She thinks. “And I can fight for those kids by praying to God about it. It’s nice to fight and be force-fed nonsense that everybody loves me and everything is fine…when in my life it’s possibly actual bullshit.” She thinks more. “In my life. Some people have FAR more love and for them hearing that people love them is possibly helpful.”

“You don’t think your parents love you?” asks Summertime Sadness.

“No! They possibly don’t.” says Michael.

“I can’t answer that.” says Lacey.

“Why?! Because the Illuminati controls you?” asks Summertime Sadness.

The Loudest Perfume Hater laughs.

“No!! Because they’re not people to say that about in this forum. Or elsewhere.” says Louis.

“Oh wow. And they’re Christians?” he asks.

“They’re your kind of Christians.” says Louis. “You’d love their beliefs and theology.”

“She followed you to hear stuff she heard growing-up and reconsider it.” says Michael.

“Crud!” says Summertime Sadness.

“Do you need to apologize for being mean?” asks Louis.

No response.

High Road by Cults plays.

More later.

“Yes! But…she’s either sleeping with men and then she should’ve just been faithful or if she’s sleeping with demons or fallen angels…why?!” asks Summertime Sadness.

“I highly suspect they’re men.” says Lacey. “But I don’t know that. And that’s my HUGE conundrum.”

“Okay, I can’t believe I’m asking this but…what did feel like? Men or something else?!?” asks Summertime Sadness.

“Probably men!!” says a Hillary in frustration.

“True!” Lacey hesitates. “The thing is…Lem was a tall man. So…as I think about him it’s a little confusing.” She laughs. “But…no. They’re essentially like men.”

“How are Lem and Michael not like men?!” asks Summertime Sadness.

“They’re both-Actually I’m not sure it is different at all.” says Lacey. “Living men are spiritual beings too, you know? So…they feel spiritually like men, like my ex-husband. But without the easily tangible body.”

“So you’re basically married to a ghost?! But you don’t know that I’m a normal way we know things?” wonders Summertime Sadness.

“Possibly.” says Lacey.

“So…from what you understand it might be actual ghosts not just evil entities a woman or man can have sex with?” asks Summertime Sadness.

“Yes! Possibly.” says Lacey.

“So then why don’t you just commit to them?” he asks.

“I don’t want to rebel against God if they’re not ghosts He’s allowing and condoning me being with.” says Lacey.

“I’m so sorry they’ve thrown you down the stairs.” he says to Lacey.

She isn’t impressed. “But you aren’t sorry for being mean yourself?”

“Fine! I’m sorry!” he says.

“That’s not much of an apology.” says Lacey.

He looks sad and then is quiet.

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t know and hurt you if I did.” says Lacey to Summertime Sadness. “If I gave you the impression I’m more available than I am.”

More later.

Lacey drove through a pretty old cemetery today. One of the oldest in her area. And…she thought of Lem.

“I really would love to die at your grave if you’re Lem.” says Lacey to Lem. She prays that if it’s him God will let him hear it.

“Or…where if you’re with me?” asks Michael who may have appeared to her today to comfort her.

“I love Lipstick Rose on you, by the way.” says Michael to Lacey. “You should wear it more often!”

“I might.” says Lacey. She thinks. “In an art museum.” says Lacey. “I literally want to die of a quick, sudden heart-attack or stroke in an art museum, or in my sleep in Minnesota, or by Lem’s grave. Quick, elegant drop to the ground. Maybe in front of a French artist from the 19th or 20th Century.” She thinks. “But my kids need to be there or be able to quickly and safely access my body.”

“You’re right!” says Michael.

“And if I can’t get you to my grave, where then?” asks Lem.

“Watching Mad Men.” says Lacey.

Later.

Slow Down Love by Louis The Child plays.

“I’m done. Let’s go.” says Louis to Lacey.

“Which one of you do I belong to?” asks Lacey.

Harold Loeb, Lem Billings, Michael Rockefeller, and Louis Hill Jr. walk up to Lacey dressed in suits. Well-tailored, elegant Midcentury attire.

Sunday by D. J. Sunday plays.

It’s really me.” says Lem.

“Do you all find someone you like better than me then?” asks Lacey of the others.

“Yes!” says Louis.

“Even you, Michael?” Lacey worries.

“Not until you’re safe with Lem. But…it’s eternity. And it’s safer that way.” says Michael.

“Me too.” says Louis.

“But I keep falling in love accidentally with Michael and Louis.” says Lacey.

Lem nods sadly.

“Can I avoid that?” asks Lacey.

“Yes!” says Lem.

Fall In Love by Phantogram plays.

“Let’s be tired. Tired and rebellious.” says Lem to Lacey. “Not rebellious of God, but just rebellious.”

And at that Lacey feels the other-side.

See…in college there was a young man she always had wanted to meet. He was the son of someone and the way he was described he sounded like her ideal type of young man. But they never met.

Road to Perdition by Thomas Newman plays.

She never ever saw photos of him. Just heard his name. Heard people talk about him.

YET…ever since then…she’s had images of him in her head. She’s seen him move. Talk. Almost as if she imagined him the way she “imagines” ghosts. And for over ten years she’s always wondered on the rare occasion what he actually looks like.

Today on Facebook she got curious and tracked him down. Through a friend of a friend who posted a photo. And…he’s almost exactly as she imagined. He might have been slightly better looking in her mind but not by much.

But same…personality. Same everything down to coloring, height, hair texture. Style. Manner. Etc.. It’s…way too bizarre that she saw him.

And…a couple of years ago…he visited her claiming to be a ghost from the future who was concerned about her. He’s supposedly extremely smart. …How he figured out time traveling in the afterlife (?) is certainly intriguing. …But…regardless…it’s just too weird. I mean…how did she see him in her mind…before ever seeing him?

Maybe that wasn’t his ghost who visited a while back but the whole thing is too weird to not mean something to Lacey. I mean…it was him she saw. Not a concept. Or a type. Him.

No, that’s too weird…

Suddenly it puts everything into clearer perspective.

“You need to eat!” his future ghost yelled at her. Just a few minutes ago. It seemed unnecessary.

But just now she physically realizes she’s hungry. Also actually kind of creepy.

“Everyone already knows an Illuminati exists if it does.” says Zelda.

“Which is why I feel like giving-up. Not suicide. But just…I’m hungry, my nose is stuffed-up. I’m tired.” says Lacey.

“It’s time for bed!” says Lem.

—

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac plays.

The problem is that Lacey’s childhood consists entirely of being corrected. The rest was bullshit done for reasons of social class preservation. Her great-grandparents, at least on her mother’s (who raised her) side, apparently had done well. …Or they were better in Norway than not. And the mother who raised Lacey felt obligated possibly both morally and socially to uphold the standard they set for her to follow. She loved her family? And at the very least she needed their approval.

“And that’s the problem, Casi.” says Michael. “Don’t all American southerners understand that concept? Or no?”

“Maybe it’s a unique experience.” says Lacey.

“Of the real old money Americans?” asks Michael.

“Yes! They had a sense of things in that way. As even if they don’t truly love their kids they pretend to for the kid’s psychological development.” says Lacey.

“True!” he says. “At least into adulthood.”

“But then you wonder.” says Harold.

“And sometimes they let you believe they loved you. My mother wanted and still wants me to think that. Her whole family is like that.” says Lacey. “But beyond a certain class protection level…you’re alone.”

“If Biden was honest, he’s definitely raised his kids that way. And…I bet it’s confusing to both him and his kids. Because I think he loves them…but…possibly he’s not as middle class as he portends to be.” says Michael. “And…maybe he doesn’t love them the way he’s advertised to everyone.”

“I was screwed-up too. But I understood more why.” says Elliott Roosevelt.

“Anyway, I was corrected.” says Lacey.

“In an authentically loving way?” asks Michael.

“Yes!” says Lacey.

“We’re wondering if your parents were authoritarian.” asks a middle-class hater of Lacey.

“They were mean. And-“. She thinks. “Wow, you are vile aren’t you? Do you have a soul? …But no. No, you pretentious asshole.”

“You’re so genuinely concerned about humanity though?” she asks Lacey seriously.

“Yes!” says Lacey.

“Of course! …You just can’t win. That’s all that’s bothering you. You’re essentially heartless right now. Stop making intellectual arguments in your head to feel superior. If it seems fake then okay! But if that’s a lie be careful for the sake of your own soul.” says Harold.

“So you got corrected?” asks a perfume hater.

“Yes! I found out things that were actually wrong with my soul. Or at least that I needed to consider.” says Lacey. “My mother who raised me may have accidentally imparted real love to me in that way.”

“No, you’re not a paranoid schizophrenic. Your mom didn’t check on you once when you fell down the stairs. Right?” asks the middle-class hater.

“She called once and talked to my ex-husband on the phone who told her I was doing better. They barely talked. As that’s all. And no, she was clearly explained how bad it was. …She’s aways been like that though. She did her duty cheerfully as very convincingly. But…no. She never helps other than to send gifts for my kids and money. There’s absolutely no physical help or emotional support.” says Lacey.

“As much as I want to believe that you fat, mid, cow bitch…I don’t. Now suck my dick! I know you want to, Wanda!” says Mr. Blue in sincerity to Lacey.

“Who’s Wanda, the cow bitch, Mr. Blue?” asks Harold.

“That’s not me, Mr. Blue.” says Lacey sincerely and patiently for the 300th time. Since 2016 or 2017.

“Did you astral project to be with him?” asks a Charismatic Christian of Lacey.

“Possibly not.” says Lacey.

“Do you know how to astral project like he does?” asks the Charismatic Christian lady of Lacey.

Lacey deeply considers with deep fear of God. As per usual. She worries she accidentally does.

“If it’s not just…nonsense that only God understands fully…then no?” she wonders.

“Lacey where did you when you tried to do a Christian version of astral projection in 2016?” asks Harold Loeb.

“You’ve never studied it?” asks Summertime Sadness of Lacey.

“No!!” says Lacey to Summertime Sadness, hiding seething irritation at his incessant insults. “Of course not! You hateful toad!” She thinks. “I went to Rockefeller Center.” Lacey says to Harold Loeb.

Silence as Dreams plays.

“I know.” laughs Harold.

“Funny how Michael took you to that same spot in the last year.” says Scott to Lacey.

“On the same elevator.” says Lacey.

“Yes!” says Michael.

“The night she left Joe Jr.. Didn’t catch that?” Joe says to Mr. Blue. “Chris Hayes-wannabe…who is Wanda?!?”

“Isn’t that man’s actual name more complicated?” asks Zelda.

“Oh! He hyphenated it, didn’t he? Like Bobby might.” says Lacey.

“Yes! It’s like Shaw-Hayes or something.” says Zelda.

“That’s what I read somewhere.” says Lacey.

“Why don’t you dox Mr. Blue?” Michael asks Lacey.

“I don’t want some criminal using my blog to harm me on behalf of Mr. Blue and literal Hell.” says Lacey. “I don’t trust the public with almost anything that important anymore.”

“If your father was alive would he be living if the Illuminati exist?” asks Zelda.

“I’d like to think my father would have stopped it years ago entirely.” says Lacey.

“So you’re a literal orphan?” asks Summertime Sadness of Lacey. “Who’s upper-class adoptive parents genuinely didn’t love her. Except for in thoughtful corrections? In childhood?” He thinks. “But they pretended to?” He thinks more. “In almost seamless perfection.”

“Yes!” says Lacey.

“Would I be alive?” asks Mr. Blue.

“No!! Your wife and you would be in jail and possibly have hung yourselves by now.” says Tommy Banks.

“Should we exist!” says Mr. Blue. “And not just be demons impersonating humans.”

“Anyway! Who’s Wanda?!?” asks Lacey.

“Summertime Sadness are you done impressing us with your Christian love?” asks Scott.

“No! There’s lots more bullshit on tap!” he says subconsciously.

“Are you a Christian?” Lacey asks him.

“Yeah! Believe it or not.” he says subconsciously.

“Great! Good! Keep being one.” Lacey says to him hopefully.

“Wanda is your invention! There is no Wanda! It was just you!” Mr. Blue says.

“I’m not convinced we ever united, so to speak, at all.” Lacey says. “I think it was Lem, my ex-husband, Michael and Louis and Harold.” She thinks. “Possibly just one or two of them, etc..”

“So! Who’s Wanda?!?” asks Harold.

“No! That’s nonsense.” says Mr. Blue.

Detonators by Alexander Desplat plays.

“How is it nonsense? You slept with some being, right?” Lacey asks Mr. Blue.

He scoffs smugly. He doesn’t understand why she isn’t more concerned about and impressed with his power.

“I’m not impressive to you at all am I?” he asks her sincerely.

“Honestly…no. Not at all. But I was taught to be impressed by you.” she says.

“Not at all?” he asks.

“Do you want me to laugh in your face?” asks Lacey seriously.

“So what you experienced was pure bliss back in 2016?” asks Summertime Sadness.

“No! I…felt love. There wasn’t much clear sex. And if there was…I have a feeling it was with Louis or Michael or Lem.” says Lacey.

“So it was like a cooking show?” asks Batgirl III.

“That’s a bit gratuitous even. It wasn’t…like actual sex.” says Lacey. “Not really. Truly.”

“So then what did you even do?” asks Summertime Sadness.

“Nonsense, essentially. But to a husband or boyfriend it wouldn’t be nonsense if he cared about fidelity and me in a real way.” says Lacey.

High Road by Cults plays.

“You were willing to be my mistress!” he says to Lacey vindictively.

She rolls her eyes. Rolls them again.

He senses her genuine coldness toward him and he cries. It both disturbs and confuses her.

“How many years have I rejected you?!?” she says. “Never backing down once. Six years? Seven years?” She thinks. “And you brutally rejected me. In 2016.”

“I didn’t brutally reject you!” he scoffs.

“Oh no! You certainly did.” says Lacey. “You filleted my soul and fed it to Satan. Laughed in my face for thinking you were in my league a million miles away. You treated me like a treasonous criminal of the worst sort for thinking we were the same species. You were…pathologically violent in your rejection of me. All I’ve ever done is say no, move on and hope you go away and make peace with God.”

“She doesn’t mean that!!!” screams herds of delusional Liberals. They’ve been religiously banking on Lacey being a heartbroken bunny boiler for six or more years.

A Harvey Weinstein bites his bottom lip not to tell them, “I told you so.”

“I’m not heartless. I was truly devastated. But I genuinely loved and was mistaken. My mistake! …Oh well! And then that’s truly the end.” says Lacey.

“No hope at all?” asks a British actress.

“He brutally rejected me.” says Lacey.

“She has to take that responsibility for herself and she does.” says Michael.

“It’s fine. Romantic rejection is my specialty.” says Lacey. “I move on in weeks now.”

“You wouldn’t fuck me if I was the last human for eternity?” asks Mr. Blue of Lacey.

She coldly analyzes it. “Does God love me at all?”

“So I’m a maid who gets shot?!?” asks Mr. Blue, aghast.

“For what you’ve done I’d consider killing your entire family in a fire.” says Lacey. “Including your mistresses and misters.”

“You’re heartless! I molest cats to arouse stupid, naive, horny men who can’t cognitively process what they’re actually seeing on Instagram. Okay?!? But I don’t kill lovers who reject me for ego reasons.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater. “I’m a moral, God-fearing, middle-class, American white woman.”

“I don’t either. I don’t think.” says Lacey.

“No you’re all missing the point. As usual.” says Michael.

“Then why is he getting killed in this fake scenario that’s bullshit here in…THE…UNITED…FUCKING…STATES…OF…AMERICA!!!?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater of Lacey. “We don’t roll like that okay? Bitch! …We have values! We don’t have an elite! Not an organized one! …Actually…we don’t have one! It’s impossible.” she says totally seriously.

A Million Things & One Things To Do (Instrumental) by Time Machine plays.

“There’s no elite?” asks Michael smiling.

“No. It’s fundamentally impossible! It’s against our nation’s core values! Get a clue!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Why would this maid end-up dead?” asks a British actress calmly, possibly seriously.

“I’ll answer!” says Michael. “The idea is that she’d be dangerous.” He scoffs. “She’s a murderous, pedophilic woman with severe psychological problems who’s family is also truly criminal.” He thinks. “Why do you all keep lying about that?!”

“Part of it is the fault of Satanism.” says a Satanist explaining that they’re religiously confused in some cases. “Because we keep sensing that she’s sparing his life. So we respect that. But…then people think that’s not her innate compassion.” He laughs. “They think that’s love? I guess?” He thinks. “Or what? Unconfessed sin on her part?”

Sunday by DJ Sunday plays.

Some spiritual group somewhere then marries Lacey to Michael. God, regardless of whether this was a Christian group or not, may recognize this as a real marriage. Also he might grandfather in Lem, Louis and possibly Harold.

“I’m not sure you ever slept with her. I think it’s-it’s sad that you want that to be true.” says Mrs. Blue to Mr. Blue.

“Okay! If she’s not in love with him…then why is she still on my back watching me?” asks the They of Lacey.

“You? Nigger?” Lacey asks the white straight, male bitch who needs to take a shit real bad. “Your white, sad ass fascinates me, you cheap whore.” She thinks. They need more explanation. “Who’s it been fucking? What’s it got up it? Illegal drugs? …Interesting.”

The Loudest Perfume Hater and the white Liberals in the They are on a giant truck. It’s a green military truck driven by actual Nazis.

Dog Trot by Moondog plays.

The truck drives around Saint Paul on tour. They all stand and wave. Laughing. Grinning.

“It’s a parade! Lighten-up!” says a white, Gen X female commentator smiling widely.

Confused and terrified the onlookers on the sidewalks are left speechless.

The Loudest Perfume Hater shakes her behind in a celebratory manner.

“You get explanations but they’re not fun! So you disregard them!” sings a jazz singer in a paternal manner to the They to the tune of Dog Trot.

The truck turns the corner. Disappears.

Catgroove by Parov Stelar plays.

“We gave them genital CBD candy suckers of various colors and flavors, told them that there was no clear class system in America at all and that being rich is the only thing that matters in regard to class in America…and then gave them all French lessons. Now they’re headed for real fun.” says the dead Nazi.

“But I think they’re all confused because their parents loved them.” says Lacey in their defense.

“Yes! We’ve allowed for that. It’s enough. Enough is enough.” he says.

“So you’re mad for deep, non-egotistical, real reasons?!?” asks the They of Lacey in 2023 squinting because she’s a hot, sweet, innocent woman. A truly well-intentioned person. They can’t believe their truly misogynistic bullshit isn’t what wins in the end.

“Yes!” says Lacey.

“Have you ever been mad for romantic reasons?” Mr. Blue asks Lacey. “Or sexual reasons?”

She thinks. “I mean I was mad in self-defense when you attacked me through romantic violence in the beginning. But other than that, no. Not at all. Never.”

“You’ve never been trying to get even with him for rejecting you?” asks Mrs. Blue.

“You constantly attack me. You all have from the beginning. Do you want me to find the blog posts of me weeping, feeling betrayed by humanity at large thanks to all of you? …Don’t act so unaware and innocent! You’re worthless pedophilic vermin and you’d be honored in God’s great mercy to only have your gross skulls smashed-in?” says Lacey kindly. “See what you idiots can’t cognitively comprehend is that things matter. And all your mortal narcissistic bullshit is really and truly worthless. Your evil delusional state is a lie. But you choose to set your entire existence on it. And then when you die God magically let’s it go when you rejected Him, scoffed at Him and molested kids?!?” She thinks. “That’s insane!!!”

“Where were the dead real Nazis taking the dead Liberals?” asks a man.

“I don’t know. Why?” asks Lacey.

“Maybe ask more questions about Lacey’s true identity.” says a Satanist to be helpful to Mr. Blue.

“Would you have sex with me if I was the last human man in eternity?” Mr. Blue asks smiling confidently because he thinks that she’s madly in love. He’s sure of it.

“No! I’d weep for probably like…a hundred years to be unloved and celibate for eternity but then I’d be fine with it. I’d adjust. As usual.” says Lacey. “Can I kill you over and over in new ways as compensation?”

“Would you defile him?” asks an Englishman, treasonously. Hopefully he truly doesn’t know what he’s doing. That’s his best defense?

“No! That’s a lie!” says Lacey. “I personally am not like that at all.”

“So would you have sex?” asks Mr. Blue of Lacey seriously. He forgot she answered that question?

Relax by Vacations plays. Mr. Blue believes it’s about him.

She’s aghast and speechless.

“That’s a yes!!” Wobbly says mocking himself in the past in his reactions to Mr. Blue.

Lacey is overwrought.

Mr. Blue starts to look hurt. She’s afraid he’ll cry a little bit. She’s afraid his wife won’t be able to process it. She’s afraid she’ll cry.

“No, it’s not like that!” says Lacey sweetly. Then she tries to explain but is as per usual shouted over by the They.

“See! I’m sensing that she’s still in love with my head! It’s like…we’re rich and she’s after our money! As I’m such a Beth Gallagher.” says Mrs. Blue seriously.

“We shouldn’t have made that film.” says a actress apologetically to Mrs. Blue.

“I can’t help it! I cannot help it! I…crave sex.” says Mr. Blue.

“And we’ve got a knife to your throat to be just like us or we’ll torture you to death, literally?” asks a Boomer actor of Lacey.

“Oh!!!! My whole life!!! …You’re a HORRIFICALLY violent generation toward the past.” says Lacey to the Boomer actor.

“And this is when Lacey tries to tip toe away. Very quietly.” says Michael.

“It never works.” says Lacey.

“But he always says I remind him of Beth Gallagher!” says Mrs. Blue to the Illuminati.

“Why are you killing me repeatedly!” asks Mr. Blue of Lacey.

A They witch suggests she’s being held hostage by the Illuminati and should just put out like a sex slave to Lacey.

“Just let him rape you or we’ll molest a kid! Get I’ve it! You’re not a billionaire!” says the They witch to Lacey.

“Then I’m taking my oil!” says Lacey following through on a threat she’s made repeatedly and seriously.

“Big deal! You stupid bitch!!! You fucking ugly piece of shit!!” says Mr. Blue. He’s being completely serious.

“I HATE YOUR VILE, DISGUSTING BODY!!” says Lacey to Mr. Blue. “You have a face like a literal worm!! And a huge, misshapen body! And you’re DUMB!!” She calms herself. “I’d kill you repeatedly because you’re too dumb to have been born but you were anyway. And that’s where I wonder if God might ask for you back. I’m not God.”

“I hate you! You’re so smug! And I’ve encouraged Mrs. Blue to believe she’s Beth Gallagher because I keep thinking you’re in love with him. But…maybe you aren’t like my character at all. At all.” says a Glenn Close.

“I’ve told you that what? Ten times? Literally.” says Lacey. “So that comforts Mrs. Blue?” asks Lacey.

“No! I can’t get in your head. I could never play you on screen.” says a Glenn Close to Lacey.

“True! You’re not someone I would ever imagine playing me.” says Lacey. “You HATE me and it’s for narcissistic reasons, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, maybe.” she admits.

“So…you don’t want to kiss my ass? At all. You think I’m crazy for living my life?” asks Glenn Close.

“The badass-Boomer thing? Umm…I don’t know you, dear.” says Lacey. “What in the world were you folks even up to?” she asks seriously.

“I feel like we lost any common sense from these people when he refused to answer who Wanda is.” says a Gen Z witch to Lacey.

“Is he afraid his wife might be jealous of Wanda?” almost laughing, Lacey asks the Gen Z witch.

…

A Glenn Close watches Lacey laughing while imagining Mr. Blue trying to channel Wanda in a bedroom and Mrs. Blue walking in and wondering why things feel…weird.

“Why are the sheets all messed-up?!?” she asks Mr. Blue. Mrs. Blue’s tone is prim, but genuinely upset.

“Oh! It’s nothing! I’m just trying a new yoga pose.” he says sounding chill.

“Ok!” she says smiling seductively. Her beauty on full display. “Let’s try it out later!”

“Yeah! That’d be great!” says Mr. Blue softly, tenderly but also slightly patronizingly.

She’s totally oblivious to the condescension but she takes the love completely for granted.

“Say! That’s great that you’re doing yoga!” she says squeezing his arms seductively.

He grins flirtatiously. It’s quietly understood that they’ll have sex later.

But one does wonder who…is…Wanda?

“Who do you think Wanda was?” asks a wizard of Lacey.

“A prostitute. She reminds me of Jamie Lee Curtis?” wonders Lacey. “Maybe she doesn’t exist. That’s too silly.”

“Fake name?” asks the wizard.

“Possibly.” says Lacey.

But then the conversation falls apart when he seemingly genuinely thinks she’s trailer trash and accidentally throws that into the conversation. He thinks all Midwesterners are trailer trash.

“Oh the oil!” thinks Lacey.

“You don’t control the oil, silly rabbit!” says Mr. Blue to Lacey trying to sound like a sexy…dominant male.

After Dark by Mr.Kitty plays.

“I did!” says Mark Nesheim. He’s dead…

“Nevertheless…I’m in charge now as an English aristocrat in honorary reality or reincarnated.” says Lacey. “And it’s secretly ALL my oil.”

“And you’re taking it?” asks Mrs. Blue.

“Yup! It’s fenagled.” says Lacey. “Fenagled-swagslid…”. She thinks. “Icy-dumpling-core dropped.” She thinks. “Lemony-snicket…River rock…lemon.”

“Okay?!? Big deal!” says Mrs. Blue seriously.

“I don’t think she loves me.” Mr. Blue says to Mrs. Blue.

“Oh you all think you’re soo sneaky.” says Lacey. “And really, at the end of the day…it’s just sad. That’s what the mother who raised taught me. That…our ego doesn’t matter at all when it comes to our sin. You can just kill it. It’s totally unnecessary. And killing it comes in handy because you can think more clearly that way. You can survive more easily and hopefully avoid Hell of God is gracious. But you have to be careful to not be false about it and you have to keep doing it your whole life. And you have to be careful, especially as an abused child, to not be genuinely mean to yourself. It’s not helpful to be mean. You have to be sincere and be brutally and genuinely honest with yourself. …A narcissist might struggle to be that truly sad for more than five seconds? Because I get the sense that for them it’s difficult to be that real with themselves for reasons of deep sadness the moment they choose to engage with their actual reality.”

“We’re hoping you were a narcissist?” someone asks of Lacey.

“No! That’s unlikely.” says Lacey.

“Did you ever love me?” Mr. Blue asks Lacey.

“Not the real you. I find that highly unlikely.” says Lacey. “The man I thought you were was wonderful. But…you aren’t him.”

September Song by Agnes Obel plays.

“The thing is…he wasn’t the most handsome man in the world. But he was extremely humble about what he did have as far as looks. And he was…clever and brave and very just. Very humble though. His amazing humility was his greatest strength and in a way it was his weakness, I thought. Because he-“. She thinks. “He loved his wife at first. But…maybe…something about his personality didn’t suit her? Or who knows? It was a dark spot intellectually where I hoped to gain insight over time. But…essentially he was in a dead, sad marriage it seemed. And yet they were charging through graciously for the public. …And…I admired that. But…I thought if he was noticing me it was time he was loved deeply for who he truly was. And I was just floored that it might be me. I was over the moon with shock at my good fortune.”

A Glenn Close laughs. Lacey both hopes and assumes she’s laughing at her.

“What’s so funny?” asks Lacey sincerely.

“You thought he loved you!” she says scornfully.

Lacey looks confused. Tries not to laugh. “Did I really though?”

“You think he’s vermin?” she asks.

“Are you acting?” asks Lacey sincerely.

“He’s better than the men like that!!” she says on his behalf, as if he’s controlling her strings.

“How so?” asks Lacey. “And of course the point is that he genuinely wasn’t who I was in love with.”

“Because he’s tough!!” she says.

“Wow!!! That’s…AMAZING!! Tell me more!” says Lacey sarcastically.

“He’s the coolest guy I know!” she says.

Road To Chicago by Thomas Newman plays.

“Oh! It’s Tony Soprano leading The Syndicate! The Irish Mob! During the 1920’s! Driving on his way to Chicago to save his son.” says Lacey sarcastically. “Anyway…WOW!!!”

“Mr. Blue is…hot-tempered, aristocratic, arrogant-as-fuck-“ says a Glenn.

“Oh yummy! Hot, hot, HOT!!!” says Lacey sarcastically.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” she says to Lacey.

“I’m not doing anything to you. Or wait! No! That’s Mr. Blue?” asks Lacey.

She smiles.

“What am I doing to you?? Breaking your heart?” asks Lacey seriously but also sarcastically.

“Yes!!!” yells Mr. Blue.

Lacey yawns. Nods her head in understanding. Slightly smiles pleasantly in comprehension.

After a moment.

Another moment?

“Oh! Right! I’m supposed to respond. Sorry.” says Lacey. “Umm. No, I don’t even like you as a person. I wouldn’t hate you. But…I would avoid you completely. You totally disinterest me.” she says truthfully but bluntly. “Well…that’s not true in so far as I wish you to repent and go to Heaven but also you’re a fascinating villain.”

“No! I see the fascinating villain thing.” he says, possibly seriously.

She hopes he moves on this time.

“We were almost completely convinced you were a very sophisticated bunny boiler.” says the They to Lacey. Possibly seriously.

“I brutally psychologically attacked you. And that’s all you’re mad about from the beginning?” Mr. Blue asks Lacey.

“It’s not perfect enough huh? You need a perfect annihilation? There’s precious little real attraction or even mild interest in you as a person. At all. You’re a fake. And for all I know you channel Michael’s identity in the public everyday everywhere to be seen as him. It’s not my fault I didn’t know. Think!!!” says Lacey.

The They attacks a child in hostage in response to being warned that they’re possibly heading to Hell for eternity.

“I WANT IT ON RECORD THAT MY LIFE IS TOTALLY RUINED UNLESS I AM MICHAEL ROCKEFELLER, SON TO THE LATE NELSON ROCKEFELLER, REINCARNATED. …AND ONLY JESUS CHRIST CAN SAVE OR HELP ME. …OF COURSE IF I ALMOST MANIFEST THE ACTUAL ANTI-CHRIST TO WIN AN ARGUMENT WITH A WOMAN BECAUSE I’M NOT SURE I’M EVEN HUMAN AND I REJECT SALVATION…DON’T ASSUME MY CONTINUING SUCCESS ON EARTH ISN’T A WAY TO FOOL ME AND OTHERS ON MY WAY TO ETERNAL…Hell. Or…Hellz!” Mr. Blue (God knows his actual name) giggles. “I THINK IT’S HELLZ. Like…Hellz. Because it’s cute and cuddly and lovable like a bear. A big, warm, cozy, inviting, big-hug Grizzly Bear. Yay!! …Wild bears. That do crack!! And…that’s nature.” He gets pissed-off at all living Grizzly Bears. “They’re all going extinct! Chill crew! We’ll win! We’ve got success on our side! Not a loser life of dying bears!” It’s not his humor but Lacey’s. But he, in his spirit stands tall and yells, “FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU!!! YOU STUPID COW!!!” at all (real, actual) Grizzly Bears. “YOU MORONIC, USELESS BITCHES!!! WE SHIT ON YOU!! WE SHIT ON YOUR GRAVES! I will personally take you all down! You gonna know me! You gonna know me, you posers!!!” He laughs. “I’M GONNA GET YOU! YOU POSERS! TRY LIVING IN NEW YORK! TRY GETTING OVER A COCAINE ADDICTION! …I’VE DONE IT!!! You try. You try being humble and understanding and not too chill but chill enough to make people like you. It’s AWFUL!” He thinks. “I’M GOING TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE TO REDEEM YOURSELVES IN MY EYES. …THEN…”. He clears his throat. Thinks. “I DEMAND AN APOLOGY FOR YOUR MISERABLE…FUCKED-UP…DESIRE TO EXIST!!!!!!!!!”

Love & Hate by Michael Kiwanuka is blasted into the universe by the 21st Century Illuminati to explain Mr. Blue’s supremacy. To demand, under the auspices of their power alone, that it be recognized. Worshipped. Possibly rivaling Satan the Illuminati suspects? Possibly still fearing Christ? …But it’s directed especially at Grizzly Bears. Literally. Not on behalf of humanity nor Earth nor the galaxy or God or anything else but solely on behalf of Mr. Blue. Just him. To the universe. But especially Grizzly Bears. And…it has to be held to the standard of the Cross of Christ because that’s the name they’re potentially plagiarizing to the literal universe.

More later.

“I just realized once more, but with fresh eyes, one horrible miscommunication. …I suspect that people on a certain level purposely misread my posts years ago in the perfume community…but regardless, I think people…thought I was arguing that those of a lower class than me were less valuable as people. …I NEVER thought that of them based on social class. Truly! I didn’t think of people that way. And if I’m tempted to now it’s partially because of being falsely accused of thinking that way. …The thing is…people are inherently of value in the eyes of God. I repeat: People are inherently valuable in the eyes of Jesus. …Should I repeat it again?” says Lacey. “If I thought less of someone it was because, unfortunately, they seemed vile in some meaningful way.”

“True! And by the way: Lacey is a 10. Everywhere. Whether it’s what’s happening now or not…she’s objectively a 10.” says Michael. “And actually, it is likely she thought Mr. Blue was essentially me. Or Lem. Or Elliott? Or Harold Loeb. …Or Louis.” He thinks. “He also reminded her of F. Scott Fitzgerald. And she’s said that since the beginning so many times. But you all ignored that and if you didn’t you made it something it wasn’t.” he says to the Illuminati. “Mrs. Blue…how in the world are you like Beth Gallagher?!? Not every person who’s spouse has an affair is like Beth Gallagher from Fatal Attraction! That’s moronic! …Truly!”

“Was she ever really attracted to who he really is at all or, since they never met in person, was it just the act he plays in public?” asks Mrs. Blue.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s stupid to fall in love with celebrities!” she says. “That being said…she was thinking she was reading his actual body language and he’s not someone that famous.” says Mrs. Blue. “I think she was! Yes.”

“He’s supposed to be somewhat distant and professional. But he’s not supposed to be a total fraud. People like him are a dime a dozen. Or they should be. Why would the company that hired him find someone totally different than who he’s pretending to be?!? …If they weren’t able to find someone like me his age…that’s troubling. Why? And why did they need him to be like me? Why does the public need me to be alive and around Lacey’s age? Or Louis? Why does that make them buy stuff and feel better? …So after saying all that I highly doubt she ever was actually attracted to him without him acting like me. …Lacey found him physically attractive but only in context of who she thought he was as a soul and spirit. …She finds me objectively attractive somewhat. Lem still is attractive. She just thinks he’s that attractive… But other men are more conditional.” He thinks. “She has no clue to this day why Mrs. Blue was so upset about the situation given the circumstances and Lacey’s lack of genuine interest and desire to avoid him completely fairly quickly. …The thing is…other women could be more who you only thought she was. He’s not a totally unattractive man. And he is famous. And some people are that materialistic.”

“I think you cruelly misinterpreted my profound real, rational sadness as me being a bunny boiler. Or my righteous rage about actual evil. Rage in 2016. For…a month or two. …But then I slowly started to realize he wasn’t Michael necessarily, per se, and I got angry for other reasons. …Namely at his intellectual conceit and arrogance. And of course in self-defense from almost the very start. Because I felt very misunderstood pretty quickly.” says Lacey. “I mean he just blindly bulldozes his way through things like a speeding train gone amok. …Never stopping to truly examine the discrepancies between reality and his imagined narrative in a real, meaningful, healthy way. Just narcissistically.”

“Why were you angry at him?” asks an aging billionaire. Although he grossly wishes to be called a capitalist because he’s blind as a bat emotionally when it comes to Lacey. Or because he’s a Roman emperor who literally helped destroy the Roman Empire. And if it’s both they’re speaking in tandem like a mashup not through reincarnation. “You’re so arrogant! You’re obviously in love with him! And I can tell!”

“Stop forcing that vile bullshit on me you bitch!” says Lacey losing her temper. “Sorry, I apologize for cursing you.”

“I think you broke his heart!” he responds to Lacey tentatively.

“He hates me. Right?” asks Lacey. “That’s been expressed to me endlessly since 2016.”

He pretends to be scared, but Lacey wonders if he’s serious.

“What? I seem like a bunny boiler now for having more righteous anger, maturity and depth than you?” asks Lacey testing him.

“No! I’m not that angry.” he says.

Silence.

“You’re not aroused by me nor Mr. Blue. Are you?” he asks. “But I can sense psychically that you’re aroused by someone. Who?”

“Michael. Lem. Louis.” says Lacey.

“Okay! That’s likely.” he says. “Very much those men. Everyone else is just an understudy. And that’s an understatement.”

Silence.

“Your sweetness repulses me.” he says.

“It doesn’t repulse me!” says Louis Hill Jr.

“If she’s that nice then I’m a bitch!” he says.

“Don’t beat yourself up! Please! If you actually care.” says Lacey. “I know men like you get very angry at themselves when they mess-up that much.” She clears her throat. “But you’re not someone to lose if you’re actually a man of real conscience.”

He hopefully goes off peacefully and correctly to bed to sleep well.

“Maybe you really were fooled? Huh? Is there an entity who you thought was me?” Lacey asks Mr. Blue. “I’m not a pedophilic, materialistic person. Nor am I am hopefully demonic. …Maybe reassess what happened.”

“She’s going to bed now! Goodnight!” says Lem. “With me! Just me!”