There is presently a moth the size of a fruit bat flapping and swooping around the fucking foyer like it owns the place.

It doesn’t own the place.  And neither do I, for that matter, but you don’t see me flapping around the foyer like some kind of asshole.  Hold on…someone’s knocking on the door.  It might be the moth.

Okay, I’m back.  It wasn’t the moth.  It was the Charwoman.  She wanted to know if my friend would be staying for dinner.  “What are you talking about, woman?  You know I don’t have any goddamn friends.”

“Who’s this then?” she asked patronizingly, gesturing to the moth, who was standing behind her, leaned up against the wall, giving me the finger.  I told them that I was busy writing and that I would deal with both of them as soon as but in the meantime please fuck off and slammed the door.  I think they’re both still out there, just standing, waiting.  Jesus.  Okay…I need to go eliminate that arrogant moth.  I know as soon as I open this door and step out, he’s going to start that flappy bullshit, but I’ll dispatch him before he can take to the air.  I fucking hate moths so much.

N.P.: “Lies Irae” – Dope Stars Inc.