Dawn collapsed on top of ******’s hairy chest.
He looked over the top of her white head to her
high brown ****. Snoring she cleared her throat
in her sleep & turning her head proceeded to dream
or whatever she was doing. Laying there muttering
to herself half in obscure gypsy tongues &
half gibberish or maybe another language
altogether. Something strange was happening
nevertheless. He didn’t bother or disturb her.
She’d have enough on her mind soon enough.
Medusa concentrated, squeezing her belly
as she tried to relax her sphincter before she blew
another loud toot. The turds were further apart
but she wasn’t done; Philo’s bismuth tincture
would make sure of that. Daisy marshaled
her forces into groups. Swordswomen with shields
were followed by guards with projectiles and pikes.
Behind them was the rapid-fire artillery fashioned
from  quicker than light ectoplasma. Their
weapons glowed on several planes at once.
The soldiers themselves in several places
simultaneously. They were severely bored
after a prolonged peace. This enemy was completely
unknown and deep out in space. This adventure
was about due. Daisy, sole commander,
inspected her troops. Stepping from the orderly
array she mounted a stone podium where she
could be heard by the hundreds of thousands
rigidly assembled before her; Medusa’s army
composed of the spirits of murdered women
throughout earth’s many ages. They may have
been soldiers or washerwomen, saints or serfs;
they were now warriors in service to the great
Gorgon Goddess Arch Mistress Queen Medusa
and they were unstoppable. Medusa was wishing
she had a cigarette. Huffing air as she tooted
a few more bars of ‘my old Kentucky home’
the easiest tune to play on the backdoor flute.