alicalicit

I was making turds again next to the hot pipes and open window of a cold late October night on the verge of winter. The wind was gusting, rattling through the tattered venetians which made the room a bit too cold until a wane allowed a warm puff of heat from the lead pipes to balance it out again. I've always been sensitive to heat and cold, even the girl thought so. I sat there shitting and flossing and sniffing the floss between each plunge to detect for odors and beware the thought of rank breath. I've known too many great men with rank breath who become great lonely old rank-breathed men and I'd be damned if that'd be me in 30 years. I was gonna keep 'em clean, especially the baby one that failed to bud adult. The one that docs all said would rot out years ago. But we showed them, didn't we, you stank little pork trap. Snap! And on to the next one. Now all this flossin' left me sittin' too long and my legs got numb which was fine while I remained shittin' but I knew I was in for the fire on standin'.
The boys down the hall made a racket on trouncin' through so I sat and listened, delaying the reticulation fire awaiting my legs.
Hey Gail. silence. GAIL.
YO.
C'MON.
ALRIGHT. jesus. He made it to just outside the paper thin door.
That shit was fucked up.
Yea, how's that?
They had it in for me. Those guys were gangin' the fuck up on me.
They were, were they? The man said in mock response.
Oh, they were. They had it in. for. me.
Well, let's get movi... and the voices trailed off in the echo of the stairwell.
Just then I started to cry. And then sob. Big soft diamonds. There was no vision or no voice or no God mocking me. I just sit there, a healthy movement floating below with the cold winter air snappin' at my lily white thighs, weeping. It was time I guess and I let it come.