8
I didn’t get much sleep that Friday night as I researched ways to free myself of his influence. My only leads were for some gypsy woman downtown who worked on the side as a caterer, and a clown who advertised himself as a cure for poltergeists. At the early hours I collapsed on the couch, defeated, and somehow slipped into slumber. Maybe it was the physical exhaustion from my s****l escapade, or maybe it was the mental weariness, but whatever it was I was awoken by a loud pounding on my apartment door. I sat up and realized I lay on the couch with a plunger in one hand and another empty pop can in the other. The pop can was the remains of my effort to stay awake, and the plunger was the only weapon I owned.
There came another round of pounding at the door. “Liz? Liz, you in ther
