Dear Diary,

Foldger won’t go back. He’s determined to stick around and demands more wine. I am too tired to argue with him. The best part of waking up is NOT a skull reeking of wine and making me translate archaic languages.

However, he does say he has some pointers on necromancy and I don’t know when I’ll have an opportunity to learn from someone that old. Besides…translating and dealing with a clattering skull is a lot easier than sorting out how I feel every time I think about Kate.

Foldger chattered about wine and ancient techniques for raising dead armies while I cleaned up and got dressed. Oh and I got a job. A kid’s pet. Sad, yea. Easy, yea. Pays for shit, yea. Still, less stressful than what I’ve been doing.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I put Foldger on the table under the window. Maybe he and Nevermore can keep each other company. Maybe Nevermore will be a quieting influence.

The kid lived uptown and was offering his allowance to bring back his pet hamster. I told him to keep his allowance but his dad came in and told me to take it. That junior here was learning responsibility. I kept my mouth shut, pocketed the bag of change and crumpled bills, and brought back Whiskers. It went better than the mouse the other day. However, whether it was because he died and came back or perhaps Junior was a little too enthusiastic when he picked the hamster up, either way it ended in the kid getting bit hard enough to draw blood.

I left to grab some lunch and tried not to think about certain Stephen King novels.

My fortune cookie says: when you get something for nothing, you just haven’t been billed for it yet.