We arrived in the Summerlands at midnight, part of our long journey through Etheric Eurotrip. Arietta ended up drawing a Stalin mustache on Jesus with her mascara – he had shaved in the morning – and Jesus told a long, elaborate sex joke about Jonah fucking the Whale:
"And then, Jonah asked, my Whale Wife, why do you smell like seafood? And the Whale Wife replied: "Haven't you met a woman before?""
"You stole that from Gabriel," Samael muttered.
"I'm pretty sure Gabby doesn't tell lewd Bible jokes," I smiled, looking at the will-o-the-wisps on the moors with wind-shredded, bent over ghost trees that gancanoghs haunted with leanen sidhe. A banshee wept by a river, washing bloody clothes. "That's the bean sidhe! Granna always said the O'Connor's had one, who cried out a wail when Greatgranpa Allister died and gave her mother a heart attack! I'm too hick Irish for this place!"
"It is where the fey live," Samael smirked. "Want to run off to a barrow and haunt it, worm?"
