When the Crickets Leave

Locust isolated on white background.Chapter Nine:

“Brevyn’s surprise seemed to dissolve quickly into a look of rich amusement. “Should I take that as a dare, Samuel?”” (Writhe, page 72)

Somebody’s in trouble.

Whether it’s you or me I have no idea, but somebody blew it big time.

Anybody care to guess the infraction?

*crickets chirp marring the complete silence*

What goodie did you not receive Saturday? What mouthful of smutty sweetness did you miss yesterday?

That’s right. A Taste of Writhe was forgotten by one and all Saturday.

While ostensibly this seems to be the blogger’s fault, said-blogger would like to point out that no bloggee mentioned this omission.

Fault. It’s as thick as peanut butter around here this morning and it’s sticking to us all.

*a communal eye roll of the crickets precedes the chaps hopping away in disgust*

Perhaps, the fault is mine alone.

Just maybe I’m the only one with peanut butter in their hair this morning.

If that happens to be the case, I would like to apologize. My failure as a good, trustworthy blogger has been noted and I will wear this guilt as a stain to my reputation… a creamy peanut butter smear on the Chloe Stowe name.

*Frank chucks a couch pillow at my face before rolling his eyes*

As the specter of imminent failure (Frankie-boy) is even telling me it’s time to get off the stage this morning, I will concede and skulk off to the side, stage-left.

Until tonight, when a triumphant return will be made…

Chloe

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