Let me bring you up to speed. First, we got married again, only now as Mr. and Mrs. Ortiz. We moved and are now living in a small village that I can't name, not even if I change the name, not even in fiction. Suffice it to say, there was some trouble that could not be wiggled out of unless you count this as the way it was wiggled out of. I can't go into specifics (see above) but I can give some suggestive clues. It had to do with magic beans, howling at the moon, and not seeing it coming. There's a path between the mountains and the lobster gets you going. Okay, that's enough. Mr. Ortiz is making motions with his index finger, like cutting across a throat. Use your imagination. I had to testify against mine. I know it was a lousy thing to do but it was either it or me and I was facing life without parole. Besides, how do I know it wouldn't have turned against me first? They say it's still running things from deep inside the hole. It's got people everywhere, gunning for me. Good thing is, I'm not me, anymore. Do I like who I've become? My God, what a question! Why do I imagine that you'd be the only one indiscrete enough to ask it? Look, I gotta run. There's been a knock on the door. Haha. Just kidding. Still. By the way, did you notice that I never wrote "second", only "first"? Hint: that's another clue.
No comments:
Post a Comment