17. e1 - sahara

Chapter 17 - Dry Spell

The weather is great. I remember last summer. That woman was a stunner. My heart stopped when she walked in that room. I never expected to see a blonde with blue eyes in the middle of the sahara.

Date: 29 February 1969

Moon landing. The red vixen is angry. The humans are making progress and may soon challenge our supremacy of the cosmos. They are still at least eleven thousand light years away from my humble abode. They still need oxygen to survive, and maybe this time my 68th disciple will be successful. The last one was an idiot who said he was the son of god. Good for him. He got what he deserved.

Buzz buzz.

Reply now? No. Let him wait. Let the message sit in its little blue bubble. Breath in. Meditate. Counting the ticks of the hour. How many steps to the end of the day? Did I make the 1K? Eleven. Nine. Too many. The clock is tired. Almost midnight. This is not another cinderella story. My husband is Mephisto and his sword has proven worthy to break my dry itchy spell. Wait. Where the fuck is he?