Chapter Twenty
Melodrama
“Mornings were a thing of beauty until the bathroom mirror was invented.”—James the Strong
Two hours later, James the Strong’s mood was at the teeth-clenching stage as the Librarian tweaked at a level that had him sweating like a wrestler in a heat wave.
His bed was now covered in shoes and cushions with his breakable-as-an-eggshell, hand-painted-with-love skull lamp precariously balanced on top. And on the floor, piled in a heap like garbage bags, having been ripped from the walls like used waxing strips, was his much-loved, took-forever-to-collect, four-legged-creature skin collections.
He stared down at his tea, now colder than Aggie’s “not tonight” look, and wondered just who was the boss.
“We’re nearly there,” muttered the Librarian with smugness.
James
