My Cardboard Balcony

Memoir Of A Psychopath by Belinda Roddie Forgive me: You thought I said I was, "righting wrongs." In truth, I am, "writing wrongs." My stories are rife with Satan's to-do list, and not even angels can purge the pages of such evil, unctuous text. I hope you understand how the simple art of transcribing trespasses on fragile paper very much deters me from acting on such expeditions that my characters embark on. I have also learned to smile instead of sneer. And laugh less cruelly.

Have you met my cousin Lars? He claims he comes from the northern stars. He rode to Earth on a comet's tail and put his spacesuit up for sale. He speaks in such a loud, strange brogue. In terms of etiquette, he's rogue. I'm sure he'll sober up someday and understand the human way. He can be very odd to me, but I still call him family.