Chapter 7
When I wake up I don’t even try to make it to the office. It takes most of what I have left to even raise my head off the pillow, and I deserve a day off anyway. A dull, grinding ache accompanies every movement, and since it’s either think or watch the advertising screen loop through its endless infomercials, I think. Jerome, my least favorite tiki person, grins at me from his perch in the bedroom corner.
I must be drifting in and out because the show tune-singing clown makes several visits. Big and bulbous, its disembodied head warbles campy songs while I try to concentrate. If elven mages are skilled enough, they can contaminate you with a mind virus and meditation helps uncover those. This clown, however, isn’t their normal style. It should be something more natural and wisp
