ST MUCKYMUCK
Season3
WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN
WHAT YOU READ IS:
IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.
THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.
THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.
"What are you doing?" asked Brenda.
"Concentrating on my question," said Myra, her eyes closed.
"What's your question?"
"Shhh!" snapped Myra. "I can't think."
She repeated the earlier ritual of rolling the scroll forwards and backwards, turning west and south.
"They lie under the care
Of a rhapsode
Who is in his four-and-fortieth winter," she read from the scroll.
"What's a rhapsode?"
"Someone who sings epic, Greek poetry..." said Myra, trailing off while gazing into a distance only she could see.
"Eh?" said Brenda.
"I have to go to Auchterarder and have the auspices taken so I know when to drink that potion. Don't let it burn while I'm away," Myra quipped. She grabbed a black cape draped over a chair and threw it over her shoulders, increasing her resemblance to a wicked old witch. "Auchterarder is as fast as lightning!"
The Morbier clock struck 1:30 AM.
(c) 2012 Steven Gorman. All rights reserved.
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