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» S.D. Smith
Jellybean Highfive stood at the entrance of the house called Diffident Manor. He walked in reluctantly, stood in the doorway in an unassuming fashion. He had been invited here by invitation.
‘Place looks odd,’ he thought inside his mind, with his thoughts.
“Hello, stranger,” a voice said from in front of him. The voice belonged to a woman –a curvaceous, vivacious, hellacious woman.
“I’m Vivica Hellen,” she said, drawing on her cigarette like a smoker, “but my friends call me ‘Curvy Vivica Hellen.’”
“Because of the…?” Jellybean began.
“…curves,” she finished. “Yes. Because of that.”
“Why are we here?” Jellybean asked, looking around at the quaint, humble insides of Diffident Manor in an uncertain way.
“I got me an invitation, I did,” Curvy Vivica Hellen said.
“Me too,” Jellybean said. “Mine was a little odd. It said…” and he showed it to Curvy Vivica Hellen.
Come to Diffident Manor. Stop. Great riches await you. Stop. Why am I writing this like a telegram? Stop. I just can’t seem to stop. Stop.
“Mine says the same thing,” Curvy Vivica Hellen said.
“Mine too,” Jellybean Highfive said, drawing out a cigarette from his pack of cigarettes. He lit one with fire, began to smoke it cheerfully. “Mine too,” he repeated, this time with extra rasp.
“It’s a mystery. Why are we here?” Curvy Vivica Hellen asked.
“You’re here,” a voice boomed, “because I invited you, by invitation.” Continue reading


