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puffy raggedy piles

March 4, 2009

The way the phone was ringing said as much as he wanted to know without even answering the call. Nobody  except her called this early, and the cat-box was dirty when he left the night before which meant that Cezanne reminded her of this fact in his usual way. Nothing like a cat for nastily effective communication. When they deign to communicate, that is. Passive-aggressive little fuck heads, the whole bunch, good only for mousing if the need exists and little more other than reminding you of your insignificance if there are no rodents in residence. The money was counted, banded in denominational stacks and sitting on the edge of the bed in puffy, raggedy piles, stinking like gray-green money , and softly purring, ” lets go, oh pal o’ mine, times’ a wasting.” He began to chuckle, getting the visual of her in her purple wrapper, standing next to the heap she called a bed,  toes in a puddle of cat-piss, calling to remind him that he forgot to empty the litter box. 

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