How to leave a Cult

How to leave a cult.

I belong to a bit of a cult. Not quite devil-worshipping, but pretty close. It’s a sex cult. Lots of it, which is lovely, but a bit exhausting. Every Wednesday at midnight, we do all the cavorting.

I proposed a motion that we bring it forward to a more reasonable time, like eight pm. Then we could indulge, and still be home in enough time to get some sleep for work the next day. On Thursdays, I’m a zombie at the solicitors.

Mr. Perkins has noticed. Mr. Perkins is the boss and I’ve already suggested to him that this sex cult might be just the ticket for him, being a perpetual bachelor and all. I won’t hear of it, he says.

There aren’t many sex cults in our area, to be honest. Certainly, none that start at eight. Midnight seems to be the appropriate time. I could leave, of course, but I do like all the sex, even if I’m a bit shattered from my day at Brown, Shaw and Perkins. I could possibly set up my own branch of the Southern Wiccan Collective (SWC). But that seems like a lot of admin to me. Where would we meet? Currently, we have a large manor house deep in the countryside, which is splendid. Lord Jameson is quite accommodating. Perhaps I could have my own eight pm lot there before this lot, which would be a nice overflow for the most enthusiastic of our number? I suggested that we have our meetings on Saturday nights, rather than Wednesdays so that we can sleep it off on Sundays. The Anglicans and the Catholics rejected that idea out of hand. What do do?

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