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Chapter Two Hundred Four: 'When an archdemon stirs...'
It had been a long and frustrating day, to say the least. He sighed wearily as he flopped down onto his favorite bean bag, enjoying its soft and fuzzy coating in tandem with its familiar squishiness. Sour-faced and upset with himself, he allowed his eyes to drift slowly around the room.
As far as workshops went, his wasn't exactly what one might call "conventional." Old televisions lined one of the walls entirely, but most of them hadn't seen any use in twenty years or more. At one time, he'd been enamored with so many different daytime soap operas that he'd gotten into the habit of watching many of them simultaneously, but these days, he didn't have much love for the genre anymore. Looking back, it may've perhaps been a bad idea to mail in that threatening letter to the producers of Daily Love. Sure, the show had gone to hell, and everything he'd written in that letter had been one hundred percent accurate, but he hadn't wanted them and virtually every other producer in all of Bellvine to quit making daytime soaps altogether.
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