I’d love to turn… you…. on….

Yeah, having a broken leg sucks, but we got more to worry about than that. Pull up a seat and don’t you dare freakin’ sign the cast, I heard about that last stunt you pulled.

So, here’s the story. I knew this guy, an old man, good resource. Don’t think he had himself some magic, but the guy was a freakin’ occult encyclopedia. Don’t think he ever had an idea the stuff he told me … ya know, meant stuff. So, one day I stumble in and I’m kinn’a banged up, and he’s wondering why. I tell ’em, and, well, hey, he’s got a reason to be upset.

Didn’t know he’d try to call the police. I set him straight on that. No, guns are too loud, the guy lives in an apartment on the non-shitty side of town. I strangled him.

Hey, don’t look at me like that! You wanna hear this or not?

Soon as the ol’ guy stops struggling I, well, keep it up. You know, just in case he starts breathin’ when I take my mitts off ’em. After a minute this light in his apartment goes out. I figure–hey, sign! I let go and sure enough he’s dead as it gets. Now, here comes the interesting part, which occurs a day or two after I get out of there.

This guy–they figure he was a small-time robber–breaks in, doesn’t see Ol’ Man because I tossed ’em somewhere, not sayin’ where, but anyway, the neighbors report the guy is rantin’ and ravin’ and screamin’ nonsense. I felt obligated to check what happened, and what do you know, he’s on record as talkin’ about us! Not by name, but like, if you’re Clued In you can tell he’s describin’ us, what we can do.

So… you know I’m a psychiatrist as my day job, right? Strings get pulled and I check the guy out, take ’em to the apartment (he wasn’t violent, just noisy and crazy), and sure enough, the damn light that went off when the old man went is shinin’ like daylight. Almost too much to look at. I make the guy pull on the light’s cord, but no go. I didn’t feel like takin’ it out, you know, ‘cuz this was kinna interesting.

I take ’em out and what do you know? Up ’til then he’s just starin’ at me like I’m about to grow a giant dog head and eat him, and he bolts out into traffic. Splabam. Total damn mess. Yeah, I tried to stop him. See below. Hey-hey-hey, get yer damn pen away from that cast! And so–anyway.

Later, post-casting, I go back up to the apartment and the light’s off. Power’s on. But the light’s off. And I don’t think anybody else went up there.

So, what do you figure? Turn on and you turn on. Makes me wonder ’bout the old guy, but here’s the damndest thing, if you got someone who could make a bang-up one-o-us to turn it on, think we could get a nice new member of the spell-chuckin’ community? I know it sounds stupid, seeing taht at least half the guys who turned in on went nuts.

Ain’t looked into the building’s history yet. Wanna bet the girders have selenium cores or some shit like that? I ain’t heard of nobody else in that apartment that’s In The Know, and the old man’s apartment wasn’t in the center or any other kinna thing like that.

Eventually they’ll figger the old guy ain’t coming back and that apartment will be up for grabs. So’ll the light. ‘Til then I’m gonna look up previous live-ins, see if there’s a connection. But, now, here’s what’s bothering me.

A guy, random guy, turns on the light and nuts be he. The last guy turns it on and goes about his buisness with a head crammed with all kinds of cool stuff. Now, here’s my main train o’ thought.

One, the kid couldn’t handle what he saw like Whatsisface, the book guy.

Two, he could’ve handled it but, well, he and cars had an appointment, and if I’da kept him safer then he’d be gettin’ ‘is mojo on.

Three… and I’m hopin’ to hell and back this isn’t true… the kid was a caster and got Turned On to something even more Turned On than he already was. And that it was all kinds of worse than what we’ve got.

Cuz, you know, I’ve been thinking about the light, too…

Hmmmmm.

I know this dipsomancer… think he’d…?

Yeah, man, let’s. And bring a pigsticker. Just in case, you know. Crazy.

I’m weirdly optimistic about this.