Yeah, have you ever seen that, um, show where people had the Virgin Mary on toast and an Elvis mud stain on a shirt, just like this one, maybe it's worth money, though legally I can't keep it, being state property, and, oh well, why am I happy again, I think I should be depressed, or hitting something, a body, not a joint, my eyes are rolling back, what???
The poor shirt! Clarice decided just to give it to Yolanda. She'll wear anything, Clarice thought to herself, laughing.
What?
Rock music.
Keep jamming it, stupid-silly-giggly-girlie-freaky stomp the gas and haul a*s… I'm retarded!
“No more drugs for this woman,” Patty said pointing at her.
Clarice dragged herself back on the bed. “I feel like I drank a Homer Simpson potion,” she croaked, cotton mouthed.
“D'oh!” Patty exclaimed. Cl
