LXXXIII: City of Devils

She's brought us to Los Angeles. Not that we'll see much of it. No, we will instead languish in the hotel room while she attends her conference.

Oh, but first there was:

This dog's name was Biscuit. He kept trying to come over to us, but his owner wouldn't allow it. Probably just as well. (No, John, I was not terrified of the dog.) Biscuit finally gave up when the plane arrived. Evidently it was far more interesting than we were.

Now we are here:

Room 503

It's a small room, but it does have a balcony . . .

. . . With an exceptional view of the building across the way. She won't let us out there because she thinks we'll fall (or maybe jump).

For perspective:

King bed, though. Plenty of room for us all. Except she always steals the sheets.

LXXXII: Building Permit

The bridge is getting a bit more . . . Something . . . (Compare to the previous post.)

Did I do any of it? When she wasn't looking? Well, I have been a tad bored lately . . . Though we do have that trip to L.A. coming up. Should probably prepare myself for that . . .

LXXXI: An Utter Lack of Progress

When it comes to building, she is worse than any Public Works project. So far this is all she's managed of the Tower Bridge:

She says it's because she has so many other projects—writing projects, that is. She goes from one right into the next with hardly any . . .

What's that, John? Like me and my cases? Yes, but I don't have a Tower Bridge to construct. What? For Christmas?

. . . Well, yes, maybe I would like that.

LXXX: Sex & Candy (No, Not Really)

John and I are still awaiting . . . Well, I don't want to talk about it. Sufficient to say we were unable to go out. Which means, of course, Jim had free rein.

They went into Burlingame because The American has a taste for expensive undergarments.

John is extremely sorry to have missed this.

(I understand Jim's presence in the changing room startled one of the sales clerks. Though, honestly, Jim's presence anywhere startles, well, just about everyone.)

There was a bookstore visit, too, I'm told, but I have no evidence of such.

Then there was lunch:

And it appears Jim has started recruiting henchmen . . .

Utterly deranged . . .

He's cheap, I suppose, willing to work for the price of a sandwich. Or probably just some candy. We'll need to watch out for that one . . .

LXXIX: Following the Threads . . .

She brought these home:

Yes, John, that is us. And by our feet? That's what she brought home.

Thread.

I find myself somewhat perturbed. Though, based on color, I'd say John has more cause for concern than I.