With a message from his boss in the form of medical traction.
My arms in desperate pain, I protested any infraction.
“The love potion you sold him failed.”
“Impossible,” I wailed.
“Did he drink it at midnight on the dot?”
“Right on the witching hour’s spot.”
“Did he stand naked under the full moon?”
“Just like a love hungry loon.”
“Did he gaze upon his lady love?”
“Yes, the woman as sweet as a turtle dove.”
“Sounds as if the potion passes.”
“No, she wore mirrored sunglasses.”
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