I clutched my pearls, dashing around the ossuary like my hair was on fire in anticipation of his arrival. I had watched as he finished his quartet performance on the stagecoach and knew he would come here next. He missed his sister, but I was glad that demon hermaphrodite was dead. You can’t imagine the peace.
It might sound churlish, but she found it incomprehensible and inconceivable that I was so allegiant to him, figuring I was just a nut in a rebellious phase. It wasn’t a phase.
I made some purple nurples and bought his favorite speckled goobers for our private party. He walked straight in without noticing me and lay on her casket, his clinomania getting the best of him.
“Just where I wanted you.” I said.
He looked up and shook his head. “Won’t you leave me alone? You’re like a bad schpiliks infection.”
I chuckled. “Your intelligent, lackadaisical humor fires my sapiosexual side.” I climbed on top of him and squeezed his wanker.
“You can’t just. . . what is the mot juste? . . .bully me into it.”
“Our union is inexorable,” I said, jabbing him in the neck with a syringe of Morphine, now able to have my way with him in the ossuary. Forever.