If you want 'er voice to sound less like a frog's, you better gets someone else." Whatsin had had it. "First she calls me a duck, then a frog. I say H...mes, you better stop her before she makes an ass out of me." Hee hee," Maizie giggled. "She's a regular menagerie, she is!"Homes looked at Whatsin. "That's she is, Maizie, that she is! Now, the evening latens, so let us get started."AN HOUR LATER and Whatsin was sashaying all over the room as well as any street walking prostitute could ever hope. Even though she had thought about driving a wooden stake through Violet’s chest early this morning, she did not like all this talk about **** and torture. She didn’t like it because deep down she remembered not so long ago being helpless, tied to her own dining room table as her father and his fuck-friend had talked about her. They had used that same tone of voice, although they had not planned anything so nasty and fatal. They had talked as if Rachel did not even exist as a person, as if she. More

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