I GOT YOU, LARRY

 While the blog lately has been dominated by Ash’s books (and yes, she’s currently beating me in sales, congrats, babe), I just want to say:

Had I known years ago that all it took was boobs and lesbians, I’d be retired by now.

But I digress.

More important matters are at hand.

I’d like to formally announce that Larry the Locust, my uninvited six-legged roommate, has finally been evicted after a series of elaborate David Copperfield-level disappearing acts.

Now listen—

I swear I caught him.

I opened the door like a gentleman.

I released him back into the wild.

I did everything right.

So imagine my surprise when I walk into my bedroom and there he is—

Sitting on my bed like,

“I let you think you caught me, but really, I needed more ‘fat guy chasing me with a plastic cup’ stories for the boys down at the exoskeleton bar.”

For 48 hours, Larry mocked me.

Hiding. Darting. Laughing his satanic little insect ass off while I searched the house with a plastic OnCue cup and lid like an idiot.

But guess what?

I GOT YOU, LARRY.

Your reign of terror is over.

(Also, Ash, I’m coming for that sales crown. You may have the sapphic smut crowd, but I’ve got rage, bugs, and blunt force trauma.)

🖤 Stay tuned.