“Hey, pumpkin head.” Turning to Aunt Lillian, I almost screamed aloud when I saw who she was with. Instead, I forced a smile and said, “Hey, Aunt Lil, Mr. Habersham.” Mr. Habersham was the dead guy from 2B for whom I’d invented the transcendental pest repellent. They were all googly and giggly, and I threw up a little in my mouth. But Aunt Lillian had the sweetest look on her soft, wrinkly face. “We’re going down to the Margarita Grill to smell the lobster, then we’re going to watch the sunrise, and in between we’ll probably have hot, unsafe animal sex.” Wh-what? Even my internal dialogue
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