Hanging out in the art studio (worse things I could be doing in my afterlife)

 Spent the day in the studio, watching Khari glaze pottery, listening to music.

Much work was done.

Much work was not done. 

The lazy slacker.

Gods and goddesses try not to judge. 

There are darker forces to judge mortals by . . . cue Judge Edgar.

Because hanging out with Khari is better than me haunting the streets looking for Billy Bones, the Little Drummer Boy--or getting involved with Judge Edgar's Day C business.

That looks like someone beat a prisoner--badly--hard--with wood.

Judge Edgar has prisoners to be judged as Unworthy to be Leaders.

Beware Day C--it comes soon for Judge Edgar. As Khari held her big event, the Star Chamber led by Edgar, might have threaten to beat Pirate Traitor Donald Judas Trumpet to death before wishing him long life in prison with the best health care that the United States could provide. "With no beatings, complete security, 24/7/365 video feed like a zoo."

Got to hand it to Chief Justice Edgar, he has an imagination when it comes to dealing with pirates. Putting them on historical display as a warning to others, not to misbehave. 

"Don't steal things that don't belong to you. Don't destroy communities in the name of profit. Don't laugh about making women and children scared for their lives."

Because that makes Judge Dread want to walk up behind a certain renowned spinner, and put a single round of ammo type in the back of your damn head. 

I am not saying that I read your rap sheet, Judas; but Horus is coming for you on the day that the Sun is brightest. Mars, the red planet is going to crash on your world with war because I don't like women being afraid . . . and I am a god-awful black magick witch.

Fuck you Billie Bones. Strike, strike the Master Chord. 

Fuck you Donald Judas, Draw, draw the Flaming Sword.

Crowned child, conquering lord--Horus, Avenger--he comes for both of you!

Oh guard, you at war, it is an Age of Horus--can you survive?

I don't care, if I do.

I am already a ghost. 

No one watches me at night. I might be spending nights with the ghosts. Cooking in what used to be Snape's kitchen . . . I think. Or not. I am on drugs. 


I am not saying that my alchemy is centered around pottery, grapes, and certain herbs--but that mind fucker John Constante "owes everyone money" seems to keep sending me the wrong type of astral client. No, I don't want to be paid in hell money; what do you mean that I own a money banking business in the underworld with my sainted mother?

Doesn't matter really because a few souls with me . . . and I am going to be cooking them. 



Location: 2727 Cook St, Denver, CO 80205, USA

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