She complained of a bad day at work again.
I made her a hot cup of chamomile tea with a sprinkle of rat poison – that should take care of the problem.
We found Mary dead in the morning and jealousy raged through the house for the rest of the day.
Jules, being the wasteful fool as usual, swallowed damn near a kilogram of arsenic although we told him that wasn’t Mary’s poison of choice.
We played the poison game, each time delaying the gulping of antidote.
One of us is going to win pretty soon.
Talent is a poison.
Other people think it is great to make up all those stories but they don’t have to deal with the voices in the night.