"Meh.....Mmmmmeeeeh.....meh." The sound came dip from her (it's?) throat as if gasping for breathe. "Meeeh...cigerettes...neeed meh cigarettes." Blythe's eyes rolled around in their sockets as if searching blindly in the dark, yet the room was lit, if even dimly.
Jamie Dimon stood in the corner. He raised and snapped his fingers. A manservent in a pink and purple bikini ran to Blythe with a pack of Lights. The boyish bikini clad man held the pack out to her. She roiled about for a second, not moving in any coordinated manner.
"Pull one out for her!" Pointed Jamie. The boy did so and Blythe cocked her head so he could stick one in her lips. Her body lay in a vat of a mud like substance that appeared to be boiling. It was not clear if she ever left the pool.
"Blythe," Jamie asked nervously, "What is the plan today?"
She coughed and weezed. "Well it appears it has noticed we do not usually go after silver on Tuesdays."
"So we go after silver?" Jamie asked in aspiration.
"Let me finish, boy. We will go after all of the usual suspects." Blythe let the cigarette burn as she talked. "First oil, then gold, then silver, then the dollar."
Jamie reached in his coat pocket. "I will alert Bernanke."
"Do not waste your time. He and Barney Fwank are skiing Jackson Hole for his anniversary."
"Oh no, I forgot to get him a present!"
Blythe took a drag as an inch of ashe glowed red. She exhaled and dropped it in the ashtray. "I sent a card with your name on it."
"Thank y...."
Blythe interrupted, "Don't thank me." She relaxed her head into the ooze and shut her eyes.
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