My cool lasted about half an hour, as well as my certainty that I had come to the right address. One of the hazards of being early, I consoled myself as I settled back against the wall in cool quiescence.
LITEROTICA BLUEHARVEST CRACKED
The cracked window rattled in its pane as I knocked on the loosely latched door.
Only one fact was certain through the door's frosted window: no lights were on inside. Thus lost in somber - aye, sobering - reverie, I arrived in front of the agreed-upon door, 1339.
This might not be such a windfall after all, if they didn't have any more money than this. (I find that hunger and punctuality go hand in hand.) I noticed as I walked through the corridor/lobby and into the dumbwaiter that passed for the building's elevator that my client-to-be didn't appear to be doing much better than I was. The next day found me outside a midtown office building ten minutes early - right on schedule. My unknown client-to-be ended the conversation by saying, "You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to this. Now, I really don't think that I can be faulted for taking the whole thing at face value, surprising or not. We made an appointment to meet in her office the next day. "I'd love to hear more, but it sounds like we'd better meet, first. That sounds like a wonderful conjunction," I silked, careful not to be too eager. This really helped to cut the edge of the hangover from last night's disgruntled drinking spree, and I don't think I even thought to ask into the exact pathways by which my interlocutor had come to know of me. Well, I'd not been doing too well lately (cash flow, the real "writer's block") and was only too happy to have work drop from the sky. I suppose I felt that the two were a powerful conjunction, and I just wondered." Randall," intoned the voice on the telephone, "I've heard through a friend of a friend of your interest in magic, and I need a ghostwriter. The recipient of my unpleasant intent was very public, none other than the President of the United States, and such a one has guardians too numerous to count. Now, who would even suspect that anyone would be watching such a very private little transgression? But, there's the rub. Here's what happened: I got drunk and ritually evoked a certain Entity in the process of cursing someone I particularly dislike. As a pagan, I see magic as a fairly common and straightforward thing, or maybe seeing it that way was what landed me in this mess. I merely happen to disagree with most of you on one point: I'm a pagan (as opposed to a heathen). I'm just as stable as you or your neighbor. What's a little curse among friends?īefore you decide that I'm a lunatic, let me assure you that I'm not. Nobody ever before told me there was a law against not liking someone, and I would have called them a liar if they had. I mean, so it wasn't a friendly thing to do. They don't listen when I suggest that a touch of publicity to that Law would still be nice. The problem is, it's too late, and They say that ignorance of the Law is no excuse. Maybe I should have realized that such an act carried with it its own reality, that one could expect anything. Really, though, who would have expected this?
Honestly, is it my fault that I didn't take such a consideration into account? If I did anything wrong, it was merely the drunkenness by which it became easy to choose loosely to perform the act. I mean, who expects to get into trouble for the politics of one's magic? I never would have expected the road I walked to lead to such an end. I was just discreet enough to keep myself clear of overt political complications, as I liked to remain. Well, I had never really gotten into any trouble, though I'd harbored seditious thoughts on many occasions. But, really, who in their right mind would have expected this? But, then again, who do I know who's in their right mind? Sure, I mean, all the tales warn against doing it, but nobody ever suggests that this can happen. O.K., I admit I probably shouldn't have done it.
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