Despite the Mayans, the world was still there when I woke up the next day. And it was still there the day after that. On the third day, Tombstone dragged me downtown to a clinic to get tested, and in a minor miracle, the results came back clean. I offered up a silent prayer of thanks and a heartfelt promise to never ever do it again.
For a while, at least.
I returned to the house to discover that Kilroy and his Yoga-Voiced girlfriend had taken it upon themselves to get rid of Mary May’s earthly remains. They had vacuumed up the rock salt and done their best to clean the ash off the walls and furniture, but the old shag carpet was beyond recovery and now occupied the front yard in a stinking heap. The floor underneath turned out to be a span of scuffed parquet, serviceable but marred wit
