- Joined
- Sep 23, 2018
Her eyes flick open and the first thing she sees is her hen Suzie staring back. In a haze, she reaches out for her phone to check the time. 12:48 PM. A bit early, but she feels rested enough. She lifts her head out of the puke drawer and stretches her arm over to pet Suzie, who responds by shitting on the bedspread.
She opens the closet door to let little light in and examines the soda cans and bottles clustered around her "bed." Finding the least moldy container, she has a few swigs for breakfast and gets up to her feet, nearly stepping on a rabbit in the process.
"Oh, sorry, Roscoe," she says.
Roscoe shits on the floor.
She finishes off the Cherry Pepsi and throws the can back in the closet; a cloud of spores poofs into the air from wherever it lands. She throws on yesterday's shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and mismatched socks. She grabs a large handled paper shopping bag and opens her bedroom door. A large golden retriever bounds up to greet her. As she scratches him under the chin and behind the ears, he shits in the hallway.
Carefully stepping over the shit, she walks down the hallway, bypassing the bathroom. Her mother is sitting at the dining table, pouring over pet shop product catalogs and horse magazines. "Well, good morning, princess."
"Ma, I'm going to the library. Gonna read to the kids again."
Her mother sighs. "That weirdo from the Internet isn't going to be there, is he?"
Her grin is a little too wide. "No, ma. I told you. Forget about that guy, all right?" She bends over to peck her mother on the cheek, and her mother fails to stop herself recoiling from the smell. "Love you. I'll be back by five."
A cartoonish hairy snout pokes out of the shopping bag.
Her mother sighs again and flips the page.
She opens the closet door to let little light in and examines the soda cans and bottles clustered around her "bed." Finding the least moldy container, she has a few swigs for breakfast and gets up to her feet, nearly stepping on a rabbit in the process.
"Oh, sorry, Roscoe," she says.
Roscoe shits on the floor.
She finishes off the Cherry Pepsi and throws the can back in the closet; a cloud of spores poofs into the air from wherever it lands. She throws on yesterday's shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and mismatched socks. She grabs a large handled paper shopping bag and opens her bedroom door. A large golden retriever bounds up to greet her. As she scratches him under the chin and behind the ears, he shits in the hallway.
Carefully stepping over the shit, she walks down the hallway, bypassing the bathroom. Her mother is sitting at the dining table, pouring over pet shop product catalogs and horse magazines. "Well, good morning, princess."
"Ma, I'm going to the library. Gonna read to the kids again."
Her mother sighs. "That weirdo from the Internet isn't going to be there, is he?"
Her grin is a little too wide. "No, ma. I told you. Forget about that guy, all right?" She bends over to peck her mother on the cheek, and her mother fails to stop herself recoiling from the smell. "Love you. I'll be back by five."
A cartoonish hairy snout pokes out of the shopping bag.
Her mother sighs again and flips the page.
