Me: “Tweak, we’re going to have a party soon.”

Tweak. “We.” (Not a question.)

Me: “You’re right. I’M having a party. YOU are having a collapse.”

Tweak: “I am NOT collapsing. I am simply going underground until the ‘fun’ is over.”

Me: “Where do you hide, anyway?”

Tweak: “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

Me: “You mean quickly instead of this slow inexorable descent into madness?”

Tweak: “Tom Waits called. He wants his Renfield back.”

Me: “No live insects for me, Tweak. YOU will make me immortal. The ultimate gift. You are Lord of the prize.”

Tweak: “I’m pretty handy with a Brussels sprout too.”

Me: “Anyway, I just wanted to warn you. We are having visitors.”

Tweak: “I will be in the dungeon. Eating spiders.”

Me: “Would you like flies with that?”

 

17 July 2014, “Tolerating Tweak”