As if she had read his mind -- and she very well could have -- she nearly sucked up her entire face into a testicle-shriveling lemon-pucker kissy-mouth. But, suddenly she planted a Grinch-like smile on her pan as if she didn’t have a care in the world, then she leaned forward with a sort of serpentine slink across the table -- B.J. swore her neck was about two feet long at this point and growing like a Slinky -- and she hissed, “You, you, you trailer trash.”
He thought about that for a second, then he looked her right in the eyes -- he saw an inhuman narrowing and sudden expansion of the pupils in the form of a triangle -- and he said real low, “Wow, I sure wish I had a trailer,” and he did too. His one-room hotel room was a real dump and he had hookers and pimps outside on the corner all night long making gaawwwd-awful noises. A few times he threw coffee mugs at them from his third story window but that got to be fairly expensive, and, uh, hell he didn’t have a job at the time.
Excerpt from The Eternal Optimist by Kevin O'Kendley
Kevin O'Kendley is the owner of Carbuncle Moon, and the author of all original material on the website (there has been a very limited editorial input in some of my work). Quoted sources are noted. I am responsible for all posts.
Kevin O'Kendley: P.O. Box 172, Winterport, Maine, 04496/ and then my next address... firstname.lastname@example.org.
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