Hi guys! Here begins my descent into the fourth Anita Blake book, The Lunatic Cafe. Which is spelt wrong. The full set of Circus of the Damned reviews will be up in a few days, hopefully.
I’ve been at Bosworth field all day, which was pretty suss. I got to hold a sword.
Right, it Anita world, it’s two weeks before Christmas. I’m betting that Anita hates Christmas. She certainly hates the next client for not syaing why he’s coming to see here. Mister George Smitz is tall and muscular.
Not the muscles you get from lifting weights and running around indoor tracks. The muscles you get from hard physical labor.
Muscle is muscle.
I was drinking my coffee out of the Christmas mug that Bert, my boss, had insisted everyone bring in. A personalized holiday mug to add a personal touch to the office. My mug had a reindeer in a bathrobe and slippers with Christmas lights laced in its antlers, toasting the merry season with champagne and saying, “Bingle Jells.”
Bert didn’t really like my mug, but he let it go, probably afraid of what else I might bring in.
…. because that mug is so risqué? I mean, it’s fairly ordinary. I’m betting my mum’s school has half a dozen mugs exactly the same. It’s not exactly offensive, is it?
OH GOD ANITA IS DRESSED IN CHRISTMAS CLOTHES
A high-collared blouse so perfectly red I’d had to wear makeup to keep from looking pale. The skirt and matching jacket were a deep forest green.
Okay, two things.
- Well, aren’t you a pale little woman of Mexican extraction?
- You are wearing green and red. Green and red. Two colours you are never supposed to wear together because otherwise you look like an elf. They are bad things to wear together.
Plus she is wearing a Christmas angel pin. She should not be allowed to dress herself.
George Smitz has come to see Anita because his wife Peggy, a werewolf, has gone missing and he doesn’t want the police to get involved; if they do, people might find out what she does and she’ll loose her butchery business.
But I could see why she’d lose her job. Food preparation with a potentially fatal disease. I don’t think so. I knew, and the health department knew, that lycanthropy can only be transmitted by an attack in the animal form. Most people don’t believe that.
I don’t believe that because it’s not true. Richard, Anita’s boyfriend, became a werewolf after getting vaccinated from a contaminated batch of anti-werewolf vaccine. Clearly, one does not have to be attacked by a werewolf to become a werewolf. And since when has lycanthropy been a fatal disease? What, you choke on a hair ball?
Anita, because she isn’t an investigator, passes on the client onto Ronnie Sims, her private investigator friend. Who is a lot nicer and a lot less likely to be an unreasonable arsehole. Anita proceeds to have a long and lengthy conversation about her date with Richard tonight with Ronnie, while George Smitz is sat in front of her. Such a consummate professional.
Best friends, a concept that most women never outgrow. Ask a man who his best friend is and he’ll have to think about it. He won’t know right off the top of his head. A woman would. A man might not even be able to think of a name, not for his best friend. Women keep track of these things. Men don’t. Don’t ask me why.
I don’t know, maybe they think it’s rather daft to arbitrarily assign categories to their friends after the age of ten? And that it’s insulting to imply that men don’t value platonic friendships as much as women do?
Anita arranges a time for George to see a competent human being. After he leaves, Anita arranges a time with the night secretary, Craig.
What an enthralling journey into this new undiscovered work of genius.