Jazzmin Flush (63)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (63)"
   
   Jazzmin Flush lovingly followed Thomas' telepathic wolf-calling away from the area of Mister Merlin Pope.  His (Thomas') metaphorical howls implied an imperative retreat from Pope.  Hence, Jazzmin bolted, saying her polite farewells to the bizarre, living man she was interviewing for a futuristic obituary, scooping up her notes scribbled on an archaic notepad with a number 2 pencil.
   So, Jazzmin Flush scooted towards the urban corn-dog stand where her and Thomas had their first date.  Thomas was glimmering in potency and righteous truth, as always lately, munching his incisors on non-antibiotic fed chicken bread in corn meal and herbs--the delicious delicacy then stuck upon a spine-tingling, when chewed on, stick.  She took a seat next to her arctic wolf boyfriend.  "What's the rush?  I was just about to get my interview to really open up."
   Thomas scowled.  "I got deep into Pope's mind.  Not only was he a ruthless android hunter--he pursued all sorts of dangerous game, including werewolves."
   Jazzmin puzzled yet defensive for the sake of argument.  "But you're not a garden-variety werewolf.  Your wolf is from the Holy Spirit."
   "Which makes my divine pelt all the more rare and seemingly priceless."  Thomas frowned.
   Jazzmin Flush blushed, badly.  "Holy Freakshow.  He's luring me to get close to my friends--you in particular."
   Thomas added, "I think your newspaper chose you not because of your journalistic skills, but to nail me to the wall somewhere in a freakshow museum."
   Jazzmin blew the gold out of her rolling eyes.  "And for a second, I thought the world was giving me a second chance."