I said when Mike finally answered his phone. “I’m going to murder you, then summon your spirit and stick you in a very small, very dark box. No, wait. I’ll stick you in front of a television, where you are forced to watch reality TV reruns for eternity. Reruns of your own shows.” “I—” “I did Death of Innocence as a favor because I know I owed you for my first Keni Bales appearance. So I signed on to help raise the ghost of Marilyn Monroe. And when it all went to hell, was it my fault?” “No, but—” “Your first big show was about to be canceled. But then, one of your performers discovered a child’s body in the garden. Who did that?” “You, but—” “I found that poor girl, and soon, no one gave a crap about Marilyn, because you had something even juicier. Death of Innocence: Satanism in Brentwood. A smash hit. Who gave you that?” “Well, it was a joint—” “Joint effort, my ass. It was me. I even went along with the wildly inaccurate Satanic cult angle for you.
