Flaw Salad

It’s time to discuss the price you’ll pay for all your pretty games. Oh, what fun you’ve had! What a frolic it’s been! What fruits you’ve enjoyed!

But it’s pay to play, darling, and your debt is overdue.

You will pay in sneers and snubs and bitter, palpable hate. You will walk among your shattered busts, and you will cut your feet on the shards. You will stand alone, apart, away, and bear the icy glares—askance, over shoulders, down long, slender noses.

And what did you expect? Did you think you’d play for free? Did you think you could swing your great big bat and strike, strike, strike, then simply walk away?

Oh, dear heart. The price of admission is there on the wall. We tried to tell you. We thought you knew.

Regardless, your debt is overdue.

It’s time you knew. Your debt is overdue.