Ha! I love you guys!

First, dear Satan,

The unsettled feeling you described is just what I was going for! I want to classify it a magical realism. Everything in this story is really happening, the magick is real as the rest...should I explain it is New Orleans? Would that help?

Sir, I am not crazy, or on drugs. I really saw that thing on the roof.

I really wanted that to be the creepiest part.

Now, I am having fun editing this. I find it very interesting that the men seem to like the short, blunt sentences a little more than miss moptop. Hmm.

Active voice, underdeveloped male mind, what else could I do? Mateo wouldn't let me write the way i like to do with the depth of attention to fine details, and i wanted him to seem so stupid he didn't know he was stupid.

I was worried it wouldn't creep anyone out. Thanks! The fix is cooking, now I am extra nervous about trying to change it...maybe a few long sentences so he can catch his breath...

The disjointed reality of a young man who can not communicate well when faced with hard times...the city services are falling apart, there is no power and he didn't make an effort to read or network to find out what was happening....

I am addressing my serious problems, tense, and all the things you all very kindly pointed out. I will go back and force that asshole Mateo to let me turn this into a more correct effort. I really hate this character. I finally did it!

For you to say I gave this a hell of a feel Dean, I am humbled. Oh, master of the story with a hell of a feel, I am barely worthy of you praise.

So, for a first draft, not totally dismal. I am happy.

Big kisses to moptop, Satan Klause, and H Dean.