In which Marilyn checks into the Leader Hotel. Her plan is to take a shower, swallow a handful of Nembutal, chase them with a couple of martinis, and then repeat as needed. If her luck holds, she should be able to sleep for a week and let the Inter-dimensional Great Game go on very well without her. Unfortunately, just as soon as she steps out of the shower, the room turns disastrously Stephen King. The lights go out, the TV turns itself on, and appears to be self-aware and hostile. Clutching a towel, but maintaining her goddess equilibrium, she reaches for the phone. Even though it is now plugged into thin air, she speaks into the handset anyway because the TV refuses to show a program and is advancing in her direction. “Please organize me an extraction. And organize it right now. I think we have a cliff-hanger in progress.”
No comments:
Post a Comment