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Dear Amelia,

 

No, no.   Please .   Do come in.   Make yourself right at fucking home, lady.

Oh, wait.  

I recall you already have.

Which means, of course, you’re been reading this all along – you knew just when to expect me home from my recent … tasting tour.

Which means, of course, you’re not dead.  Well – not entirely.   Shame.   It seemed kind of bloody (and) poetic that you killed me the first time around, and that I killed you right back.   Eventually, I mean – I wasn’t as fucking gung-ho about it as you were when you murdered your murderer (you never asked either, you know, lady…), but I thought I’d complete the circle sooner or later.   A tooth for a tooth, you know?   Clearly it’s just going to have to be later…

Which means, of course (as you’ll have guessed), that I’ve been out looking for you, Amelia.   No easy thing to do during the Christmas crowds, but school is out, and Py and I have been – busy.   Still, if you’d like to make things a little easier and drop by again, I’m only too happy to let the wrong one in.

Which means, of course, that my door is always open.   Though you already know that.

Come on over.

 

Jonathon.

  

NEXT ENTRY…

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2 Comments

  1. You don’t see that greeting on welcome mats. Nice.

  2. Nice play on words with “let the wrong one in”.


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