• Continued •
Much to your intolerant nature, I have written you in the allotted time frame. I dare say that you hardly deserve such a greeting. I am in great supply these days. That I hardly have time for such trivial matters, Winston. Even as the words leave my pen I am late for a political meeting.
You need to get out of that dilapidated house. I pity your circumstances. If you would come visit me, I would open the world to you. However, I will warn, the esteem colleagues of mine have never even heard of Warhammer. You must leave such childish toys at home.
My comrades await me, I must leave you.
Winston clutched the letter, annoyed. How dare she. To even think about an excursion exhausted him. What would his mother do in his departure? The batty old woman was nearing the end of her life. He shuddered at the thought of her passing and he having to come home and find a rotten corpse.
Leaning back in his chair, he tapped his pen. Little blue dots appeared on a piece of paper as his thoughts organized themselves, the tapping continued.
"Political meeting," he huffed. "What a ridicules waste of one's time."
How foolish he had been in thinking that this phase in her life would pass. No, it seems that she is deep in the rabbit hole of politics and poison.
"Pity my circumstances," He wadded up the letter and threw it across his room. "I'll show her!"
Reaching for the medical testers brochure he had received in the mail, he looked over the flyer.
Get Paid To Be A Medical Tester!
"The Warhammer Gods have smiled upon me," Winston bellowed. "I make for Albion!"