Homeless

[hangmanschange]

Dear Munsey,

I am inestimably delighted you remembered me, why, I was beginning to think you do not love me anymore, or worse, that you had forgotten forever! And we couldn’t have that, love, now can we? Life would be ever so droll. Just think of all the trouble we could get into, the treasure, the secrets. Dearest, you simply must find me a place to play.

If you don’t, I am quite afraid I will simply have to rummage through your head space to occupy my time, opening all the closets and waltzing with the skeletons. And you do keep the oddest things stashed away; what ever would you do if they started to leak?

Find me something with a flare of mystery, my sweet, the allure of power, plucking at the heartstrings. I could use a good lie. Or lay, as the case may be.

Your most ardent admirer,

Fin.

Comments

[greyeyed]

Wow, look at you being all dramatic. What a badass.

[hangmanschange]

Look, Munsey, someone thinks I, of all people, am a badass. We must be using a drastically different definition, or else you owe me a uniform of some sort. Perhap French, my love? I am rather inclined towards the cut-away. The way it attracts the eye, and other parts of the anatomy.

[greyeyed]

... Does nobody know what sarcasm is?

Although I can get behind the French uniform.

Looking?

[no_stopping]

Heartstrings? Aren't you a poet.

[hangmanschange]

My dear lady, as Munsey here knows full well, I feel no urge whatsoever to recognize sarcasm when it is far more amusing to ignore the sentiment. Ever so aggravating, don't you know?

Always

[hangmanschange]

Poet? Never something so useful.

I-interested in helping populate a Dressing Room that just barely got started?

[no_stopping]

Just a shameless flatterer, then?