It’s the middle of the day and we happen to all be hanging out in the living room, chatting casually. I’m blogging.
Whore: (reading my post) Wait, wait… I’m not in this! I was there and you’ve written me out!
Me: It’s artistic license. I romanticized the story. You are in it, just you know… (quietly) at the end.
Whore: (skipping to the end) Oh my god! You wrote me out just so you could have that lame same-as-the-title ending!
Me: It’s a story telling device. The journey goes full circle and it becomes about myself learning self empowerment and learning that I don’t have to be involved in areas of the industry that I’m not comfortable with. It’s nice!
Slave: Yeah, that’s lame.
Whore: You know what? I don’t even feel like I was there now. We had a lovely night and my memory is now tainted. I’m like a ghost now, a ghostly presence, erased forever.
Me: OK, that is a little OTT.
Slave: Am I in this anywhere?
Me: (pretending to look at my phone) Yeees, but I think only once so far (hurriedly) but you are definitely in it!
Slave: Oh yeah. I found it.
Me: Do you guys only follow my blog to read the bits that you’re in?
Slave and Whore exchange glances.
“Yeah pretty much.”