Im focusing my energy elsewhere as best I can, but I keep thinking of El Torpedo.
Trapped there between dimensions like that; It's no fun. I've been there.
It's no fun at all.

I generally don't get involved in petty squabbles between lesser beings;
But, this particular situation bothered me greatly.
Is it because I'm lonely?
I'm too lazy to be lonely;

So, that makes no sense.

I can't even enjoy my coffee for want of piece of mind on the matter.

That's where I draw the ******* line.

My haven, it will not be disturbed this way.

I had to do something.
Something that required effort;
Asking favors from entities I don't particularly care to visit with.

I've never felt this.

Why do I care all of a sudden?
A question for which I currently have no answer.

I really should've paid more attention to the goings on,
but I was distracted by thoughts of Sacred Geometry
And dreams of Fibonacci...

Here is what I think I know so far:

El Torpedo thought she killed The Artist.
So did everyone else.
That turned out not to be the case.

Killing the Scarecrow, I can understand.
It would make perfect sense to me- but, I'm not the Artist.
She works differently.

She takes her time.

This was a crime of passion, she was in a hurry.
She didn't sign her work
That is unheard of; it doesn't happen.
El Torpedo is alive.

The Artist didn't plan this; it was happenstance.
They interrupted her;
She punished them.
Ghost was opportunity (I'll explain),
Torpedo was mercy (How mundane).