Dear Joe Miller,
Hi. I know you're a novice and all, but could you please refrain from making booty calls in non-existant pan-dimensional abnormalities and rips in space-time?
Okay, thanks, bye.
I'm sorry, but a freaky motel room that doesn't actually exist in our universe is not the place to have sex. God doesn't like having to wash the sheets after you're done.
The Lost Room has given me something of a Lovecraft craving, I think. He's all about horrid places that bend our understanding of reality and break our dimension down into tiny pieces. *wanders off to finish The Lurker At The Threshold*