Actually had the unmitigated stupidity to head to Toxichouse to attempt to speak with the mental patient. Tried, repeatedly, to call It. No dice.
So, no car in the driveway. Crap all over the living room, crap all over the dining room, crap all over my bedroom. Looks like you emptied a closet, upside down. Really makes me feel good about paying the mortgage. For a slum.
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