Beyond These Borders There Be Dragons

Delta Hotel is off for the weekend, and whenever he's gone I turn into this great, bloated seed-crystal carcass attracting all the scary things that you can only see when you look over your shoulder in the mirror. That's why, if you drive by my house tonight or even tommorow, you will find it ablaze in an electric-company orgasm. I'm not afraid of the dark, just the dead little boys with long fingers and black eyes that lurk in it. It doesn't help matters any that Delta Hotel, in a fit of eccentricity, installed massive porn-star mirrored closet doors, gateways to the underworld, right next to the bed. Boy am I glad we have Darling Dog. As long as the ironing board, vacuum and rake don't attack, he'll protect us.