She carried on reading loyal Bar's post on CKX, as the tears welled up in
her eyes. Bar had had the courage to name them all. Big gay Al who had
sucked the literary lifeblood from her blog. Evil Jeff with the steel
rimmed glasses and the promotional Microsoft pen. Wicked br3n, who had
walked out of the Castle, and betrayed the secrets of autohide. Napoleon
Reddress who she could not quite remember, but was sure had taken
something intangible from her spirit. The 144,000 crickets, all the
supposed friends who betrayed her.

Her breast tremored as she thought of how loyal Bar had guarded her red
dress on the washing line, for a whole day and night before the Free
Software Community awards dinner. Yes, she was glad she had put on that
red dress to face the the world today.

She heard a gentle tapping on the window of the parlour and pulled back
the curtain. Her heart swelled, she smiled through the tears. It was loyal
Bar. She let him in through the door. "Tonight, Bar, you're not sleeping in
the yard, nor ever again."

Bar smiled for the first time. Her breast quivered as she pulled his head
onto the shoulder of her red dress and hugged him. Their embrace endured,
neither willing to break it. After an eternity, she felt the warmth of
Bar's dribble soaking through the back of the red dress. She thought of
stopping the drool by offering him some carrot cake, but she realised she
relished the sensation and felt safe in her parlour for the first time to
really enjoy wearing that dress, holding precious Bar.

No blog article that night, or ever again she thought.

THE END

[from "The game is never up until the Red Dress comes off" by PJ de Leete
2005]

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