![]() Jed took a long drink of water and fell into an extended coughing fit. “I don’t follow, Jed,” Beatrice said, taking a seat across the table. Instead, it was I who invited this snake oil salesman into our home, through the vast yet unseeable cloud of devilishness that has so poisoned the minds of today’s youth known as the internet.” I should not phrase it that way, as doing so erases my own culpability in the matter. ![]() “Well, Beatrice,” said Jed, “I’m afraid to say we’ve been visited by a snake oil salesman. Once she got him seated at the kitchen table with a cold glass of water, she asked what had happened. ![]() “Jed!” she cried, rushing over to him to help him inside. ![]() Only when her eyes met his did she spring to action. Instead, he appeared to be little more than a collection of bruises and dirt and torn suspenders in a vaguely human shape. Beatrice looked up from her knitting, and for a moment she didn’t recognize the man standing in the doorway as her husband. ![]()
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