. com-for-da-bull."The next two are Compliments of mousepotatoesThree little old ladies are sitting on the nursing home porch talking about this and t...at.One holds her hands about a foot apart and says "I remember going to the store and buying cucumbers this long."Another one says, "Yeah and you could get oranges this bit around," giving a good dimension with her hands.The last little lady says, "I can't hear a word you're saying, but I know who you're talking about."A bit dated but you will. A sex club? Of horny slut girls? I didn't know if I was intrigued or frightened. "Our organization provides a safe, private environment where we can express ourselves freely, without fear of humiliation or public recrimination." I smirked. "You fuck a lot." She smiled back confidently. "We fuck a lot!" she emphasized with a grin, then raised a finger. "But privately. Complete confidence." She nodded vigorously. "It's a closed group," she offered. "And we'd like you to consider joining us." It. I lay in bed, supine, awake to the night, reading my phone in the dark, my room black as marble.A story popped up on my phone, a local news story of three people drowning to death in a manure pit. A maintenance worker, trying to fix a septic tank, had plunged in, and two others rushed to help him, and they too were swallowed into the pit of shit.Reading it provided me a guilty bit of schadenfreude. Despite my current woes of ghosts, insomnia, and filthy air, there was really nothing I could. A sort of tension ... something primeval ... like there was a raging beast inside me that knew no humanity and no society. All it knew was its will, and its desire to be obeyed."I said I would, and I meant it." My voice sounded cold to my ears ... clinical, detached, yet ruthlessly uncompromising. It was eerie to here this voice pass my lips.Sarah noticed it too. She was looking at me nervously now, and she was hugging her knees even tighter. "Umm ... Jon, listen, I didn't mean what I said ....