Stephen claims that by stretching the Proserpina story out, I am forcing him to write stuff like this:

Proserpina gets so good at punching (after practice) that she finds herself able to punch not only physical objects, but concepts as well.

“Ow!” says Love. “What was that for?”

“You were never around.” And she is gone.

“My arm!” says Loneliness. “Why’d you hit me?”

She sits, and begins to stretch. “You never left.”

Hours later, she’s still swinging.

Her cel phone rings. “nnnnJello?” she answers.

“There are some skinheads sitting at the bar, and everyone’s super uncomfortable. Can you do something?”

“Watch them a minute. Don’t hang up.” She squints, turns her head eight degrees and points at a thin figure. “Are you Nazism?”

“Ja. Unt?” The figure stands defiantly, arms akimbo.

“Prosperina, what are you–hey, they fell off their stools! How did you–“

Several punishing jabs and an uppercut later, Proserpina picks the phone up off the ground. “Anything cool happen?”

“Their hair grew back! Then they started making out!”

“Pff. Nazis. ” She spat.

… which I think is awesome. Rest assured, Stephen, you are not helping your own case.