An allusion to the New Illusions brings to mind my past allusion to the New Icicles, a club just up the road from the Listener Lodge, where I, the Petite Blonde Intern and three Northern New England critters once held sway, but now is home to only Kayla and me, and she is far from content with having to satisfy her need for lactose with store-bought ice cream.
And I'm far from content with the phone bills she's been running up whenever I'm away. She's been a-burnin' up th' dang fiber optic line to area code 903, goldurn it.