Hello listeners, and welcome back to Underwood and Flinch. I have some news
for you this week regarding the end of season five. I'll tell you in
the end bumpers, so stay tuned after the story bit. But for now,
this is Underwood and Flinch Saga, episode ninety and so I hand over
to me from the original Patreon podcast of this episode with the recap brief though
it is so why is it to say that this episode begins where the last
episode finished? Well, not quite worth the last one finished a bit further
on. But yes, Lydia James Harrington, the guy from mi I six
that she met in the hotel bar. This episode continues kind of from there.
You'll see what I mean when the story begins in this episode fourteen of
Underwood and Flinch season five in Tannerbress, written and performed for podcast by Mike
Bennett. This podcast is intended for an adult audience. Listener discretion is advised.
Episode fourteen, Lydia awoke the following evening with an appetite. She was
back home in her bedroom, having left the Dorchester shortly before dawn. It
hadn't taken much to persuade James to take her upstairs once she had overcome his
initial fear of being murdered by her. He was fine when they were in
bed, and his sap was well and truly risen. He had even known
asked her to bite him again. She had been on top, riding him,
kissing him, unable to resist running her tongue over the almost faded marks
of where she had bitten him earlier in the bar, and he'd whispered to
her do it. She'd stopped and raised herself, looking down into his face.
You want me to Can you control yourself your appetite? Of course,
I'll only take a little. You won't even need a biscuit and a cup
of tea afterwards. Okay, he nodded. It's the bite, you know,
the feel of it. I want you to fuck me while you're feeding
from me, you kinky thing. I had no idea you enjoyed a little
pain. Normally I don't. But it only lasts a moment. Then it's
all. Well, you must know you were better yourself, was it that
long ago? Choosing not to enlighten him as to the manner of how she
came to become infected, she sighed as if recalling a happy memory. No.
She straightened her back and ground her hips against his, feeling him move
inside her. His eyes closed and he moaned, I remember it well,
but it was all so frightening at the time. You frightened, James.
No, I trust you. She dropped forwards, hands to the mattress on
either side of his head, and face to face with him again. Do
you yes, and you're absolutely sure you want this? Absolutely very well,
darling puck her up. She opened her mouth so he could watch as her
fangs extended, hearkening to the call of the blood in his veins. Oh
God, James pushed her hair back from around her face. You're so so
beautiful. When it was over, they slept in each other's arms until her
phone alarm woke them just before dawn. She said it as a back up
in case reception forgot to give her an alarm call, which they didn't.
The call came while she was fumbling to turn off her alarm, trying not
to wake James. By then he was well and truly awake, and so
as she dressed, they went over their arrangements to meet again on the coming
night, same time, same place. He assured her he would be in
contact with the leader of his coven before midday, and he was confident that
he, in turn would speak to their mysterious master. Then Reception called again
to let her know the taxi she had ordered had arrived. She kissed James
good bye and left. The evening had been a spectacular success, she now
reflected as she pulled on her bathrobe. Not only had she s successfully rekindled
her relationship with James, but she had almost certainly secured an introduction to his
master. She was more certain than ever that it was a vampire, hadn't
James almost said as much when he said she a vampire would be nothing unusual
to him. What else could he be? A demon satan himself? She
snorted with quiet amusement as she left her bathroom. The added bonus of James
providing her with a late supper had meant when she came home last night she
was able to go straight to bed without tippling on Alice. But it had
been a light supper, and now she was hungry. She hoped Miguel wasn't
awake yet. She wanted Alice all to herself. She didn't mind sharing with
him, but she couldn't relax when he was around, he was either gorging
himself when he ate ahead of her, or practically tapping his foot with impatience
waiting for his turn to eat after her. This wouldn't have been a problem
if she could trust him to control himself, but she couldn't. It was
like training a puppy. This evening, she wanted to be able to simply
relax and enjoy her meal and perhaps even get to know her a little.
She had been considering the possible advantages of having a pool of victims that she
could dip into on a regular basis for the duration of her stay in London.
It would be so much easier than having to go out hunting every other
night for fresh meat. Lydia's idea was to return Alice to Primrose Hill Park
after fascinating into her instructions to introduce her to some of her friends other homeless
people from around the area. This way, she and Miguel could return to
the park early tomorrow evening and Alice would be waiting with someone new for them
to bring home. She could fascinate the new arrival reward Alice with money,
not that she would need to do that, but it would be nice gesture,
and then continued the cycle with other newcomers until she had a regular menu.
For lack of a better word, of victims, it was even conceivable
that, given that for them it meant a bed, breakfast and dinner in
a nice, warm house, they might even do it willingly. Not that
she would ever risk such a thing, but it was a nice idea.
She stopped outside Alice's room and knocked gently at the door before opening it a
little, fully expecting Charlie to come, rushing over and yapping at her until
she gave him the look that shut him up. But the dog didn't appear.
She opened the door wide. The room was empty, the bed made
Alice. There was no reply. Lydia went into the room. Charlie,
could they have gone downstairs for something to eat? She looked into the on
sweet bathroom. It smelled of cleaning products. It was like a hotel room
that had been worked on by the housekeeping staff after a gain departure. Departure,
surely not. She had given no such orders. She left the room
and hurried downstairs, calling Alice's name as she came down the last flight and
went through to the kitchen. Gerald and Cynthia sat at the kitchen table,
each with a fresh mug of coffee in front of them and very somber expressions
on their faces. Where is she, Lydia demanded. From outside the back
door, came Charlie's bark. No, said Gerald, reading Lydia's thoughts,
she is not out there, that's just the dog. What do you mean?
Where is she? Would you like a cup of coffee, darling,
said Cynthia. I've just brewed apart. No, I would like my breakfast,
thank you very much. So where the fuck is she? She's dead?
Said Gerald. What what do you mean dead? Just as I say,
I'm afraid there was a Gerald looked at Cynthia. Wow, I suppose
you could call it an accident. It was an accident, said Cynthia.
Miguel had I mean he sought off overindulged by accident. The news was like
a punch in the stomach. Oh that fucking he bled her to death.
Oh that was the net result, Yes, sir Gerald. Lydia closed her
eyes and pressed her hand to her forehead. Please tell me you dealt with
the body. Well we did, yes, said Cynthia, as best as
we could. Anyway, you wouldn't believe the state the bedroom was in,
said Gerald, like an abatoire. It was. We spent most of the
morning cleaning it up, didn't we sin Yes, took about a dozen bottles
of Stained Devil on the carpet for the blood, then bleach and missed a
muscle all over the bathroom. Honestly, my back's killing me, and that
mattress has completely ad it. We turned it over for now, but you
are going to need a new one. Yes, thank you, Lydia,
really I appreciate it. But the body, What did you do with the
body? Gerald and Cynthia both seemed to shrink a little. Then Cynthia,
eyes down on her mug, replied er, Miguel took care of it.
Why do I get the impression that that's not a good thing. Lydia braced
herself for another stomach punch of news. What did you do? He?
Uh? He dumped it in a skip, covered it over a skip.
Cynthia nodded, yes, well, Encamden Barny said, Gerald looked like it
was the side of a shop that was getting renovated. Looked like, you
mean you saw it, you were there? No, it was uh.
Now, Gerald looked down at his coffee. It was on the news,
Darling, said, Cynthia, what news at one headline story. We just
finished the cleaning up and we sat down for a spot of lunch. Thought
we'd catch up on current events, you know, see what's been going on.
Then lo and behold, there it was. Lydia couldn't believe what she
was hearing. How do you know it was her? Did they identify her?
Did they say she'd been bitten by a fucking vampire? No, said
Cynthia. I mutilated the bike to disguise the cause of death, stabbed her
in the stomach, the neck. She couldn't finish the sentence, so Gerald
continued, We're ninety percent sure it's her. When Miguel came back last night,
he said he'd buried her in a skip in an alley not that far
from here. Oh Jesus, this is all we need. Lydia walked to
the window. The police are after us. We're wanted by Scotland fucking yard.
Perhaps we should, Cynthia began, I don't know, leave, go
back to Spain, go to bloody Argentina more like, said Gerald. We
can't leave, said Lydia. I'm too close. Oh yes, James said,
Cynthia Brightening, how did you go last night? Well, fingers crassed.
I might be introduced to his illustrious master soon, maybe even tonight,
if all goes well. But shit, it's not all going well now,
is it. This is a fucking disaster. If they find out about this,
that this fucking mess is tied to me. She put her face in
her hands and screamed, Well they may not, Lyddy said Gerald. There's
no evidence. How do you know, she cried. They have all kinds
of science these days. It's not just fingerprints, it's DNA. If he
even left a trace on her, he didn't. We did a like we
did. Monica washed her very thoroughly during plastic war, rubber gloves through out.
Oh. I don't doubt that you did your best to clean her up,
darling. But Miguel, I mean, can you really, hand on
heart, tell me that you believe he didn't leave some trace behind. Ah,
well, if you're referring to his sperm and what have you. Oh,
we, or rather Sin took care of it, washed her out with
her. I did the best I could, Cynthia interrupted, But the shower
head, it didn't quite reach the bottom. Of the stall. Oh my
god, Lydia shook her head in dismay. It gets worse. I always
thinking he might have messed up when he left the body. But Jesus Christ,
yes, of course he did. He fucked her and then he came
in her. Why am I not surprised? Jesus, he might as well
have left his bloody driving license up. There a sound from the doorway,
and all eyes turned to see a girl standing there in his underwear. I
heard you calling for her, he said, Lydia. I am sorry,
but he's going to be okay. I buried the body in his skip.
It was full by now the builders will have taken it away, and now
she is buried in a landfill. That is the right word, yeah,
landfill. I checked the dictionary before I went to bed. You fucking Lydia
seized a mug from the draining board and hurled it at his head. He
ducked in time, and it shattered in the hall. Maron what I took
care of it? We, he indicated the bensons. We took care of
it, cleaned the body, cut out the bite. Lydia screamed, grabbed
another mug and let it fly. It was on the fucking news, Miguel,
the police have her. Miguel ducked the second mug. What are you
sure? He looked from hers at the Bensons, his face a picture of
shocked disbelief. Police found the body of a young woman in a skip and
Camden this morning, said Gerald. It was in an alley next to his
shop. Well, then then it isn't her, said Miguel. I left
her beside the Lavenderia A launderette, said Lydia. Yes, that was it,
said Gerald, A launderette. It's definitely her. But Miguel didn't see
the third mug coming. It smashed against the side of his head and sent
him staggering out the doorway. Lydia, darling, perhaps you ought to have
some food, said Cynthia. You'll feel better after you've eaten something. How
am I supposed to do that? He's murdered my fucking breakfast. Cynthia extended
her forearm over the table and turned the wrist upwards. I don't mind making
a donation, She looked at Gerald with quiet expectation. After a moment's hesitation,
he too proffered his wrist. Nor do I but only for you?
He looked pointed at the doorway. Miguel came back in his hand to his
head, where blood trickled through his fingers. What what about me? What
about you? Said Gerald, I'm hungry too, Lydia. Please, it
wasn't my fault. Lydia, having run out of muggs, seized a side
plate from the draining board. Of course, it's your fault, you fucking
idiot. She flung it at him, sending it spinning across the kitchen like
a frisbee. Miguel sidestepped and it shattered against the wall. Stop trying things
on me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Lydia. Please. Cynthia's voice
was strained. But calm. You could smash every plate in the house over
his head, but it won't make things any better. Considerably worse, if
you ask me, said Gerald, we'll have no crockery and a bloody great
mesty clear up on top of everything else. Look. He thumped the back
of his forearm onto the table top. Come and get some Jerry in your
belly. Off is only good for the next minute, though, I'm already
starting to have second thoughts. Lydia looked at his arm with the blue lines
of his veins appeared remarkably vivid, almost radiant. This is not what I
wanted, Gerald, Cynthia, you know that I had no plans for anything
like this. No Benson shall bleed to paraphrase his late lordship. No,
not under ideal circumstances, said Cynthia. But needs must. She looked at
Miguel, provided you supervise him. I'm happy to provide something for him too,
sin No, said Gerald. You can't do that, not after what
he's put you through, put both of us through. It's either that or
he stays hungry. Gerald, And that's the last thing we need, isn't
it. She addressed the question to Lydia. Lydia looked at Miguel, who
was licking his blood from his fingers. He stopped and lowered his eyes.
She turned back to Cynthia and said, gratefully, thank you, darlings.
I swear this is the first and only time this will happen. We're just
days, maybe only hours, from the time when we can all be vampires
together. James will come through for me, I'm sure of that. I
don't quite know what the story is with his master, but there are other
vampires, really, said Cynthia, I say, said Gerald, So others
besides this master chappy. He didn't say exactly, not did he say if
this master chappy is a vampire. But he did say that I'm that is
me being a vampire. I'm not unusual to him. Lydia came over as
she spoke, and drew up a chair alongside Gerald and took his arm with
both hands. Gerald didn't resist as she lifted it close to her face,
though he couldn't help feeling somewhat like a chicken drumstick. You're sure, Gerald,
Gerald nodded just to do it before he changed my mind. Will you
thank you? With a smile of genuine gratitude, Lydia turned his wrist to
her mouth. His pulse was racing. She touched her lips against where it
beat beneath his skin and felt a shiver of pleasure. Then she bit into
him. Instantly, his fist clenched and he tried to pull his arm away,
but she held him fast, her grip on him unbreakable. She closed
her eyes, sealing her lips around the wound as his blood gushed into her
mouth. Oh oh my god, Gerald stammered, and then, oh,
oh, that was not what I was peated. I told you it was
nice, said Cynthia, taking his other hand in hers. I remember when
Lord Underwood fed from me. I was all a quiver like well, like
what you are now. Then, with a most undignified slurp, Lydia broke
off and licked her saliva over the oozing twin punctures. She swallowed the last
of the blood in her mouth, then brought her mouth back to the wounds
again to lick more saliva onto them. The bleeding had already stopped, and
the two crimson holes glistened stark against the white of Gerald's skin, bubbling and
smoking gently. Thank you, darling, you're totally delicious, but you knew
that already, she said with a wink. Miguel came over and stood on
the other side of the table next to Cynthia. My turn not yet,
said Lydia. Gerald's right. There have to be consequences. What oh,
it's not as if you're hungry. You must have been as full as a
fucking tick last night. But no, Miguel, you can have something later
before you go out, just so you don't go and pounce on the first
person you see. But till then, you can just sit there and think
about what you've done. I'm not a fucking child, Lydia, then stop
fucking acting like one, Madre de Dios. Miguel got up from the table
and went over to the cupboard where they kept the crockery. He took down
a coffee mug, and you can make me one too while you're at it,
said Lydia. Miguel paused and then took down another mug, bringing it
to the worktop with a bang. Lydia ignored him and turned back to Gerald.
So you saw the discovery of the body on the news. Did this
say anything about the investigation? What? Said Gerald, dreamily, looking up
from the twin punctures on his arm. No, said Cynthia. They spoke
to the lead police investigator and inspect She only said that the victim was a
woman in her twenties and asked anyone who had seen or heard anything to come
forward and contact them. You know usual thing. Did you get a name?
Yes? And the phone number? I wrote them down when I checked
afterwards on the internet. Oh, I hope you don't mind. We borrowed
your computer. No show me, Cynthia handed her a piece of notepaper that
had been folded on the table. Lydia took it and read Redmond. She
considered a moment, then put the note down and reached for her laptop that
was closed beside them on the table. She flipped it open. She opened
a search engine and typed in news and Murder London Redmond, then hit enter.
When the results arrived, her eyes widened. What what is it?
Said Cynthia. Lydia clicked on the top result on the list, clicked again
and sat down, her eyes never leaving the screen. Lydia, what is
it, Miguel, did you bite anyone else? Miguel, coming over with
her coffee, frowned, No, you're absolutely sure, of course. Why
what is it? He put her mug on the table and looked over her
shoulder at the screen. The website was that of the London Evening News,
the headline slaughtered and beneath it too murdered in vampire slayings true, said Miguel.
How is there two? Who is the other one? Oh? My
god, said Lydia, her eyes scanning the text. A priest says his
throat was cut in his church. Miguel waved a hand, Ah, so
he's not a vampire. What did they say he is a vampire? If
he's not a vampire, Cynthia got up and came around to see what they
were looking at. Ooh, is that the victim? The late father Michael
Byrne smiled out at her, from a picture in which he posed with a
young couple and their baby. Lydia said it was. As she scrolled down
the page and Father Burns's picture gave way to one of the skip by the
launderette Cynthia had seen on the news, She pointed, is that your skip,
Miguel? See, but I had nothing to do with this, this
priest killing, Please, said Lydia. I'm trying to read. She scrolled
further down, reading I don't know whether getting this vampire idea from According to
this, the body in the skip was, as you say, stabbed multiple
times torso and neck. How do we get vampire from that? Then she
found a section of texts that she took as being the explanation. Oh no,
here it is, finger pointing to the text, Lydia quoted aloud.
When asked if the murders were connected in any way, Detective Superintendent Coleridge refused
to comment, saying it was too early to draw any conclusions. However,
later this afternoon, source close to the investigation revealed that in both cases,
the victims died as a result of being bled to death. Well, there
you are, said Cynthia, bled to death as in what vampires do.
So it's not so much the result of what the police have discovered as it
is the tabloid press simply hanging two murders on one blood draining sobriquet. They
don't care that the crimes are completely unconnected. Why would they want to let
facts get in the way of a sillacious headline? Yeah, said Miguil like
this, There is no other vampire. They don't even know that there is
one. Me huh, the whole thing is bullshit, perhaps, said Lydia,
her eyes still on the text. But who's this, Detective Superintendent Coleridge?
I thought you said it was a woman in charge Gerald, who had
wandered over to the fridge and was rummaging for something sweet and starchy, said
higher rank. Isn't it, Detective Superintendent? Probably her boss, handling the
media so she can get on with the actual business of detecting hm. Lydia
looked again at Cynthia's note and her name is Redmond, Yes, detective Inspector.
Then I need to get to her. We need to get to her
before she becomes a problem. You what, said Gerald, pausing on the
brink of biting into a slice of apple tart. He and Cynthia had bought
with dessert and hadn't had an appetite for earlier. Lydia said, Cynthia.
Surely you aren't thinking of interfering with this police inspector. How else are we
supposed to find out what she knows? Said Lydia. You mean about Alice's
murder of this other one, said Gerald. Both with Alice, I want
to know what she knows and to make sure that she's looking in the wrong
direction. And with this priest. Well, it's all well and good assuming
it's just a Selasia's headline. But what if it's not. We know it
certainly isn't in the case of Alice, so as to say it's also not
true in the case of this priest. Remember what I told you about what
James said to me last night. I'm not unusual to his master. If
we take that as I think he meant it, then there are other vampires
and one of them could be responsible for this. Oh, Lord Dunderwood,
said Miguel, don't forget that possibility. Is why we are out checking houses
night and day. Lydia nodded. I know, surely not his lordship,
said Cynthia. I like to think he'd be more I don't know, subtle
than this. She indicated the computer screen where the story was still open.
It seems so careless, unless that's his intention, said Gerald. What do
you mean we could be trying to send a message? Who on earth too?
Said Cynthia, But she realized as soon as she had spoken. Oh
no, not me, said Lydia. Gerald took a bite of tart and
said, if he survived, I think it's fair to say he'd be pretty
pissed off with you, don't you? Yes, I do. But then
perhaps he wanted to know. After all, he can't exactly phone you now,
can he? Fuck? Lydia took a sip of her coffee. This
is why we have to find out what this inspector Redmand knows. We have
to. But Darling, said Cynthia, How on earth are you going to
do that? You can't just waltz into Scotland yard and demand an audience with
her. I don't have to you're forgetting. What did she say on the
TV news? Cynthia thought for a moment, then said, if anyone saw
anything, to come forward and contact them. Lydia held up the piece of
notepaper on this number. Cynthia nodded slowly. Then she said, what are
you going to say? Well, they're looking for witnesses, so I'll be
a witness, someone who saw what happened. And I'm so frightened that now
the nasty vampire man is going to kill me too. Please help me,
Inspector, You're the only one I trust, Miguel chuckled. Ah, bravo,
you are an actress, Lilia, Thank you, Darling. I was
best in my class in drama at school. Teacher said I could be an
actress if I put my mind to it. But of course I had other
plans. She grinned. We're going to have to flesh that story out a
bit, said Gerald, who was now washing his hands at the sink.
Well, we can do that together, just as soon as I've showered and
made myself presentable. I want to get this done tonight before my date with
James. Then she remembered the date was at nine, just a few hours
away. Shit, I'm going to have to call him and put him back
a bit tonight, said Cynthia. Isn't that a bit? I mean,
what if she doesn't believe you, You're going to need time to come up
with a good story. Well, why don't you get started on it now
while I'm having my sh Look, it doesn't have to be oscar worthy,
just convincing enough to get her to come and meet me. Don't forget I
know intimate private details about Alice. I can describe her alliver if necessary.
I've seen every inch of her, so don't limit your imaginations. She was
found naked. She can be anyone, just so long as she's someone with
a dear and frightened girlfriend. She smiled, And that's poor little me.
Lydia got up from the table. Okay, now I've got to get a
move on. Thanks again for the snacks, sin Darling. I'll make it
up to you, I promise. She was just walking out of the door
when Gerald said Cynthia, oie, we have to tell her. Lydia stopped
and looked back. Gerald had returned to the table and was standing beside Cynthia
with his hand on her shoulder. Cynthia was looking downcast as she brought her
hand up to rest upon Gerald's. She nodded and looked up at Lydia,
her eyes filled with fresh anxiety. Tell her what, said Lydia earlier,
said Gerald. When we were online, we didn't just check the UK papers
for news on Analysi's body. We also checked the Spanish news to see if
there's any news on the business at La Fantasia, you know, just in
case the police had raided our house in a messina or something and have they
No, No, they haven't. Well that's good. So what are you
both looking so worried about? Well, bearing in mind that our Spanish isn't
up too much. He looked down at Cynthia. And when we copied the
text and put it into Google Translate, Well, it's not always right,
is it. I mean, some things don't translate literally, do they.
What are you trying to say, Gerald said, Lydia. It's your brother,
darling, said Cynthia. David David Lydia frown What about him, Oh,
don't tell me they've given him the death sentence. No, Darling,
quite the opposite. He's out Lydia's face darkened. He's what He's being released
without charge, said Gerald. David is a free man, and so listeners,
Lydia knows David is free? Will she throw him a party somehow?
I don't think so join me next time to find out. The music you're
listening to is Ahmad Ahma by Farid Fajad from the album and Rusa Volume four,
courtesy of Tarnay Records and our good friend Fawaz Almlud. You can stream
the track from Spotify, YouTube Music, Google Music, and all the other
music streamers out there. This podcast continues after the break Welcome back, and
so there we are, my friends. That was Underwooden Flinch season five,
episode fourteen, which corresponds to take Note episode forty four in the original Patreon
podcast Underwooden Flinch Underground. I hope you enjoyed it. So now, what's
this news of mine? Anything to do with a possible TV series? You
cry, No, that's still in what they call development. Hell, there
have been something's happening with it, but there's nothing that I can share here.
Unfortunately, if I could, as you know, I would have,
but you know that's that's the way things are. But the news I do
have relates to the end of season five, and brace yourselves, it's coming
next week. That is because there are thirty episodes in in Tenebris, which
as you know, is the second half of Underwooden Flinch. Underground a Patreon,
and I'm ending this season logically at the halfway point. This way,
of course, there can be fifteen episodes in both seasons five and six.
It's maths, you see a side note On this side of the pond,
we say maths, not math. Side note ends. I know, I
know it's a crushing blow, another whole year without an episode of Underwooden Flinch.
But wait, wait, don't despair. What if you didn't have to
wait a whole year. What if you only had to wait a month for
the next episode. I could start season six at the beginning of August and
then release a new chapter at the start of every month thereafter. How would
that be for you? Of course, I know that you'd rather carry on
releasing episodes weekly, but that's not going to happen. I need an incentive,
you see, for you to go and sign up at Patreon and become
a three dollars a month or pounds or euros or whatever supporter. And so
giving all my hard work away to you here for free isn't going to do
that, you see, I mean, sure, maybe nothing is, you
know. Never mind that now. So the choice you have, then,
listeners, is you either wait a year for season six and get it in
a block of fifteen weekly episodes, you know, the way we've been doing
it for the past few years. Or I continue posting Underwood and Flinched episodes
in this free feed, one episode a month forever, or at least until
I either die or finish the saga, hopefully the latter. To gather your
opinions, I've put up a poll on my website, Mike Bennett author dot
com. So go there and click an option yes or no two monthly episodes,
and I'll let you know the outcome of the poll next week in what
may be the last episode for a whole year. So that's it. That
brings me to the end of the show. Ladies and gentlemen, you have
a think about that, won't you, and let me know or don't you
know? I know most of you won't. But for those of you who
can struggle across the broken glass of the Internet to get to my website and
click an option. It's all up to you. Thank you for listening,
my friends, but from me for now, until the moon rises again over
Underwooden Flinch, take care and farewell.