The Last of Us [The night never sleeps]
George Orwell once said “Good people sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because tough men stand ready to do the violence on their behalf.”
Miles Kimball, since 1933, beaded eyeglass chain keeps your glasses nearby. Designer eyeglass chain holds your reading glasses or regular eyeglasses like a necklace with secure-grip clips so they’ll always be easy to find.
Beaded eyeglass chains hold your glasses like a necklace
Pearl style is 26” long
Herringbone style is 25 ½” long
Perl style is 26” long
Miss Mondo Kane. Girl Friday extraordinaire. Possessing such covetous attributes. A large, ugly, devouring mouth reminiscent of the gaping maw of Hollywood A-lister Julia Roberts star of Pretty Woman, et al. The hard, pretty face of a 1950’s Hollywood movie starlet or a porn starlet, et al. The double-D bosom of Playboy Playmate June “The Bosom” Wilkinson. A pair of long, genetically perfect legs akin to those of WWF Diva Miss Debra “The Puppies” McMichael—Debra Gale Marshall—Queen Debra—The Female Face of The Attitude Era. A deliciously flat, pancake butt, that looks so firm you imagine that you could pop a quarter off of it—i.e., a very tight ass. And. A Las Vegas showgirl’s tall, statuesque, mouthwatering figure—the well-endowed envy of any nude centerfold [model], circa any era, regardless of publication—i.e., all you Playboy Centerfolds, Penthouse Pets, et al, eat your hearts out. Looks like a sexpot accountant. Is a sexpot accountant. And. A legit CPA, to boot.
Her hair is yanked back up into a sternka. Retaining the fringe of her grune, because her hairdo is still a Grune when it’s worn down. Bangs draping a brow furrowed by intense concentration. Her Elster readers are hanging comfortably around her neck from her eyeglass chain, resting upon her ample bosom. The Perl eyeglass chain is Miles Kimball, a favorite brand of Sarah Palin—Palin wears the pearl version.
Mondo has banged Elena, between and betwixt. Four times as Elena’s second—i.e., her looking over Elena’s shoulder—she’s gone over the access logs, which indicate when the doors to the edifice were opened and closed. Twice with Elena as her second—i.e., Elena looking over her shoulder—she’s gone over the visitor logs, which record the ingress and egress of all visitors to the edifice. Re-interviewed all of the witnesses—thrice—Elena and her switching roles as to who was primary and who was second. Banged Elena, again, betwixt and between. Gone over the access logs for all of the edifice doors, again, by herself as a control. Gone over the visitor logs, again, by herself as a control. Re-interviewed all if the witnesses, again, by herself as a control.
Elena banged Mondo. Then, she, Elena went over the access logs for all of the edifice doors, again, by herself as a control. Went over the visitor logs, again, by herself as a control. Re-interviewed witnesses, again, by herself as a control.
The two women then compared notes. The result of their investigation, so far? Nothing. Goose egg. So they agreed to step away from the case and give themselves some time to reflect and relax, and return with a fresh perspective. Elena also needed to fill out some forms in triplicate for the impending installation of the new wards and warrants. Mondo has retreated to the Council’s library, and is catching up on some reading about the new audit certifications going into effect in the fourth quarter of this fiscal year.
The leggy, big-breasted blonde is seated in one of the secluded reading rooms that’s way in the back of the library. Just for shits and giggles, she’s also comparing line-by-line the new, upcoming audit certifications with ones in effect two thousand years ago. And, she’s finding that the more things change, the more they stay the same. The two thousand year old certification books are musty, heavy, and thickly bound—large imposing tomes. The new certification books are Kindle eBooks that her phone Lucy can sync with.
Chance, fate, destiny, whatever you call it. In the midst of her accountant geek feast. Her nerd eyes happen to fall upon someone who commands her attention, and makes her forget about her literary revelry. The reading room is semi-private. As such you can still see the library proper.
One of the book loaders walks by. An elderly Crone pushing a book cart. They had exchanged polite hellos earlier. The usual casual salutations. Just being civil.
Their eyes meet. This time, something decidedly carnal stirs in the girl. Briefly, Mondo hears Voices in her head, compelling her.
Like Elena, the spinster book loader is very ancient, used-to-goddess in a universe faraway and long ago. Unlike Elena, she physically looks the part to a tee. As such, she looks like a middle-aged Hollywood movie starlet of 1950’s vintage. In this case, she’s a dead ringer for buxom American film and television actress Joan Crawford (born Lucille Fay LeSueur).
“I’m off duty in an hour. Like to join me?”
“Excellent. Then it’s a date. I’ll swing by later and pick you up once I’ve clocked out. We’ll shoot up, get high, and ‘touch’ my wearable outside of the box that I keep it in. I really wish I could wear you, but I already have my one suit.”
Nothing in their facial expressions, gives away their telepathic repartee.
The book loader’s name is Andrea Paulina Toulon. Ms. Toulon is a junkie. She’s also a member of an obscure sect of Puppet Masters—The Pangolins. Pangolins are a one of those secret societies whose membership is restricted to purebred Hags. The Pangolin Society was founded by a Crone—buxom American film, television, and theater actress Ruth Elizabeth “Bette” Davis.
What makes you think I’m a junkie?
“It takes one to know one.”
Hags are enslavers, by nature. Skinwalking by definition is one of the most invasive expressions of enslavement—i.e., the wearer wears the worn as if the worn are a suit of clothes. In fact, Puppet Masters often refer to the people their wear as their “suits of clothes”.
Usually, Puppet Masters have several “suits” and they’re kept in a special, enchanted wardrobe when they’re not being worn. But. Pangolins practice a very parochial form of skinwalking: they box their suit-of-clothes in an individualized living tramp stamp tattoo when they’re not wearing that person. Boxing restricts Pangos to “owning” only one suit-of-clothes at a time. It’s theorized as to why Pangolins box their “suits”. But. Only Pangolins know for sure.
Pangolins prefer to wear niffins. But. In this instance. It doesn’t have to be theorized as to why. For Skinwalkers, all Skinwalkers not just Pangos, niffin is a delicacy, akin to wearing furs for human females.
A niffin is a being made of pure magical energy, who is no longer the person they were before they transmuted into a niffin. Niffins start off as humans, but not just any humans. They must be magicians, but not just any level of magician. They must be so good at practicing magic that they are at least an adept.
In the confines of the Ladies Council chambers, wearing niffin is forbidden. So. Here. When Ms. Toulon craves to wear a suit, her suit must be non-niffin. Why is wearing niffin forbidden in the LC? It’s theorized as to why. But. Only members of The LC know for sure.
As with all secret societies, it goes without saying that lot of things are theorized about them, but only members of that secret society know for sure. So. Saying the obvious twice, is two-times too many. But. That doesn’t distract from the fact that the boxing and niffin references are worth noting. Especially the latter. Because in the LC, it was not always forbidden to wear niffin.
Coincidently, this restriction came into being about the time of the demise of Carole “Penny” Marshall. Or. Maybe. Just maybe. It’s not a coincidence. Maybe. It’s the first real clue in this case.