”“Nope,” said Sally-Thing. “it’s happening, all right. Contessa Helena de San Finzione,” The audience chanted along with her. “THIS! IS!...YOUR! DEATH!”“Well, maybe,” Cara-Thing butted in. “I mean, you’re a hot, rich, famous white chick, so they’re probably trying real hard to save you up there. Out there. Down there. We don’t know how this works, to be honest.”“Ok,” said Helena as she tried to bring the left side of her brain into the conversation and her right hand joined her left in slowly. About ten or fifteen nude young girls stood along the far wall, hands held coquettishly behind them. I was not sure what their function was, but assumed that serving the food and clearing the dishware would be not far from the truth. As I entered, the chief gestured to the single setting across from his brethren."Aha, Missy so very nice to be seeing you agains. Please be seated at my table, and we begins to eat, drink and be very merry, aha ha ha ha ha..." he guffawed in good humour. It wasn't. More

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