There’s Noplace, Like Home

There’s no place like home… there’s no place like home… he thought as he stood on that stage before thousands, his face smeared all over with purple lipstick as if he had to do it without a mirror—which he did.

“Sing, my pretty—¡sing!” the cackling cackler cackled.

So he opened his mouth & bellowed, his tone gradually rising in pitch till it became distorted.

Suddenly, billows o’ smoke ‘scaped his mouth & transformed into ghosts.

Excellent… excellent… the cackler thought.

The ghosts surrounded the cackler & devoured her.

That was how her suicide note ended.


Dorothy, Lipstick, Octave