Dear Andreas,

Well, I’m still back from the dead, so correct those drafts.

I actually found myself in a fistfight.  My first in decades.  Felt good.

To win, I reached for the bottle.  As always, my first option.

Waste of good hooch, too, but it makes me wonder why they had a bottle of Drambuie by the Royal Doulton chamber pots.

The Todds.  Odd people.  But I guess that happens when you rent out your upstairs room to the harbinger of the apocalypse.

Word to the wise.





ps — Am I supposed to write “Hellfire!” or something?  It seems a tad much.


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