Painting by Andrew Wyeth
Sponsored by [Magpie Tales]
They said that it would be fun. Oh yeah, waking up standing stark naked next to a motorcycle out in the middle of nowhere is loads of fun.
Where am I? Did I ride the bike to get here? Lots of questions with no answers to be easily found, it would seem.
What was that? Yeah, they also said, “Take this pill.” So, am I hallucinating? What’s with that moon being so big?
What is that standing over there in the shadows? No, it can’t be. For tigators cannot really exist. After all, how can they poop? If something can’t poop, they are not going to last very long—let alone sustain a bloodline!
What was that pill, anyway? Whoa, feeling kinda dizzy here.
When Andrew awoke, his head was spinning like a Whirling Dervish. Lingering thoughts of what he wanted to believe was just quite a dream were even more unsettling.
He sighed in relief when he reached out with his left hand and touched the headboard of his bed. Nope, he was not standing stark naked next to a motorcycle out in the middle of nowhere.
Something stirring in bed next to him was rather startling, however. Was that purring he was hearing?
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