The gypsy Dawn concealing her face with a wraparound black bandanna led the professor back to the wild proceedings. Prescient of the presence of another witch, Charlotte quickly muttered a protection spell under her breath. Peaceful thoughts fell over everyone and pretty much nothing changed but Dawn seething with rage couldn’t bring herself to fire once she had her targets in sight. Carrera was belting out his turgid frontier verse. Pierre and the Tennessee Kid were tag-teaming a lively painted corpse. Breaking down in tears and falling to her knees Dawn couldn’t think or reason without her furious anger. Hearing Carrera’s throaty bellowing only made the memory of the **** and ****** of her mother and sister all the more unbearable. With no desire to do anyone else harm under Charlotte’s spell, the gypsy raised the pistol to her own unruly brown locks and fired into her skull instantly becoming a zombie. The party went on unabated.  

Pierre was going through women breaking off pieces when he came to Dawn supple and freshly dead. He didn’t recognize her at first because she was dead but he quickly remembered her scent as she always bathed with her own handmade soaps and lotions. She didn’t try to eat his brains as he thought she might instead kissing him all over with wet lips unable to speak because she was but an empty shell. Dawn was no longer the living feisty gypsy he’d known and perhaps loved but a lifeless animated corpse who’d blown half her face off with a .45 slug. No longer pretty her dead body more than made up for it in its uninhibited randiness. He was happy for the change.