Activity

[...] I'll be murdered if he knows I told. I'll end up in a thousand jars of the whipped lamb, while the little Foamwhistles ironically starve.

[...] I made obscene amounts of money for the House, rose to such dizzying editorial heights that my salary became almost enough to live on. [...]

[...] I recall that at this point her mechanical chair on its track was caused to move toward the door of the inner office of Dr. Jay--whose fondness for useless gadgets would, I'm convinced, be of significant interest to his colleagues--and we called goodbye. [...]

Lenore's own private well of emotional cathex

achieving full ontological status only in subsequent union