Your last letter sent me into a frenzied desire for revenge. I agree to do as you instruct.
I’ve dropped the petals from the dying blood roses into my foam bath. I lit the temptation candle and repeated the incantation you taught me. The gris-gris dust has been sprinkled under his pillow and in his trousers. It was hard enough for me to get myself into his apartment to spread the dust in these intimate places; there’s no way I’ll manage the dash of gris-gris in his bourbon, unless I pull some impossible stunt like make myself invisible. The liquor cabinet was locked, so I tried to use the expert lock-picking skills I learned in that Fine Arts program. But I heard his wife coming home, and I had to make a hasty exit out the window and down the fire escape.
Regardless of my failure to spike his drink, I hope your methods work as you have promised. I want the man responsible for my unjustifiable dismissal to get what he deserves. And I’ll owe it all to you, the Hoodoo Queen. I’ll send the two grand I owe you when I see the results. At that time you will receive payment through my messenger, Lord Fatface. You’ll find the money I owe you under his tongue.
‘Til then, keep your crystals hot and your agenda free and easy.