Susanna is furious but calm until she sees the vial that the injection came from.
"Horse mackerel!", she shrieks, but nobody is home to hear her.
"Wow! What an irascible, old curdmudgeon!", she grumbles, "My writer's block is like a prosthetic leg."
"I never should have decided to give up chocolate for Ramadan and dictionaries for Lent."
She glances outside, past all the hedge animal sculptures, to the hedge wall, and again sees the monolith in her backyard.
She steps outside, smelling the citronella and all the other myriad fragrant plants she uses in her perfume formulas.
"Oh no...", she says, "Oh yes!", says James, having just returned from dinner at Pandora's Box.
James is her policeman fiance, a shining example of a man, who loves to surprise her.
He pulls a handwritten letter and hands it to her with fanfare.
Stunned, Susanna blurts out, "How in Hosanna do you have such a talent for making work a pleasure!"
"Let's invite all our friends to a lobster party next week."
James looks at the monolith and is struck by a brilliant idea.
He looks at Susanna and says,
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