I cannot count my blessings.  I can, however, count:

1.  The Collins matriarch is dead.

2.  My vampirism seems to be the family secret.

3.  Most distressingly, Young Loomis is a Collins!  His ancestor, one Carl Collins, has materialized.  The man is an oily, gleeful, privileged idiot whose nattering laughter endangers every piece of glass within Collins County.  I spent the better part of the morning jangled to my core by a gun pressed by him into my forehead.  It all turned out to be a practical joke that was, in truth, neither.

My main fear of the gun was not in losing my life but my suit.  I am somewhat immune to most bullets, however, given the state of Magda and Szandor’s hygiene, the only things they can adequately clean are plates and wallets.

I would happily sup upon Cousin Carl were it not for fear of contracting whatever condition causes his stunning inanity.  If I go back to the present, I must check to see how he was murdered.  Note that I do not say ‘if.”






One Comment on “706”

  1. Kali July 1, 2013 at 10:44 am #

    I do love these little check lists.

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