Chapter Twenty Three
“Booo hoooo, boooohooo hooo.” Just kidding, “SHUUUUT UUUUUP.”
Hidy, Jane, been feeling pretty good lately, lots a reasons for that scenario.
Sitting here on my window stoop, again, big window doors slotted open above my alley, smoking a smoke, sipping caffeine, feeling summer coming. You know, like that purgatory haunt, that place those bent catholic priests always told the kids they were going. Their secret hide out for weenie whacking’ after the pedophiles watched that Paris Hilton porn tape for the bizillinth time.
I’m a little sad, but not really. No Adele coming from Onna’s loft lately. The place is locked down solid.
You know, like Mother Teresa’s womb.
Onna’s off to London, the trendy wharfs, to off her statue, cool thing, gorgeous half women/dolphin holdi
