DESCRIPTION
In this latest edition of At Least One of Us Will Enjoy This, I return to the uncomfortably earnest writing of my early 20s, including ice cream with Satan, the three kinds of fear, and a formative telephonic misunderstanding.
Grab a silk scarf and a pen cap and go to town!
Warning: there's a lot of talk about sex and violence here. I don't condone anything outside of fantasy.