I Thought One Muse Was Bad

I thought one muse was bad, but now there are two. Trixie brought her cousin Ruby home to belittle me. They have commandeered the typewriter. I am not allowed to interject a thought. It is all about them; they are preteens no doubt. If I had make up, I would be hiding it. I am sure they have put my toothbrush into the toilet. More than once. Can I just? I start to suggest. Trixie brings the roll of black duct tape. They begin winding it around my head. It wasn’t enough that they have bound my hands? Now I have to have my eyes covered. You had better not be using my account! I think. I hear them tittering, so I know they are. What is next? The Ouija board? How will they do that without my hands? I snicker a bit.