Magda lit the crown of wax phalluses that rested atop her head and strummed merrily on her home-carved Gambusi. The decision to dump her fiancé during the ceremony and marry herself on the Solstice had been inspired; hiring a getaway tortoise, less so. It had been three hours and she was barely back down the aisle. But at least it had given the wedding artist time to make the sketch of her dreams. Why, Judy Johnson foolishly left her fiancé at the altar on horseback! It was over before anyone could commit it to memory, much less paper. “I shall call it… Vagenda of Manocide,” she thought, smugly, as the tortoise crept another inch toward the door. Surely someone would pop by in a minute with some coffee for her tortoise.
