dear_mun | [Canon is Ask Lovecraft] In which the typist has no restraint, and the guest likes it that way...

Oh, darlin', you are so *precious*, gettin' yo' metaphoric skirts in a knot: no wonder you got one version of ol' Howie Phil in yo' pretty little head -- and don't let *anyone* tell you it ain't a pretty head -- you are every bit the nervous wreck that he is, to say nothin' of yo' choice in litera-chure: you got anythin' in that book-pile o' yours that ain't got a werewolf, a vampire, or some tentacled beastie like ol' Cathy-Lulu lurkin' somewhere? But I will say, you got *taste* lettin' lil' ol' me come to live here in that pretty head.

Jus' let me out to play once in a while, y' hear? The company in here is *fun* -- that cheeky Time Agent, as a very good for-instance: wouldn't mind him takin' me for a spin around space an' time -- but a man of my appetites has to go out and roam on a reg'lar basis. Besides, I'd be a much more happy guest at some of these places you got in mind, not like ol' Hocus Pocus cowerin' over his herky-jerky typewriter. A Love Hotel? Well, let me get a room there an' love up some guests.

Don't keep me cooped up here, lovey. I'd like to do a lil' trick or treatin' soon. Y'all be bad now. Or maybe, since you hail from Boston or parts nearby, 'Y'all be wicked now'.