Confessions of a Fuck-Up Artist: Invocation

[jack_babalon]

Tonight it's drinks once again with the Magpie. In which I will no doubt be introduced to ferocious whims and gloriously terrible decisions. An evening in which banshees shall not only be wrestled, but actually saddled, before we ride them victoriously down the boulevards of Terminus. Against the bone seeping cold, we will light uproarious hobo campfires deep in our guts with a procession of varying shots on the rocks. The teeth of this winter night will then sink and evaporate within our whirlwind buzz. The wind's howl will shrivel before our laughter while our grins alone shout the language of danger and romance to those who would listen. Tonight we will not allow ourselves to be haunted by our ghosts, but rather honor and celebrate that majestic light in which we can cherish their shadow.