My gorgeous little conqueror sneers with supreme satisfaction. Still tantalizingly nude she’s carrying an old and battered tin pie plate heaped with what looks like organic compost: chicken gizzard, guts and skin, the shells of some shrimp scrounged from the garbage with used coffee grounds still clinging to them, stale and moldy bread crusts, lettuce ribs, potato and carrot peels, a dried brown apple core or two, some noodles overcooked to mush, and other less identifiable refuse fit only for feeding to hogs. Of course spittle and mucus garnish everything, and right in front of me Mistress Aiko closes one nostril after another and blows her nose into the dish, adding her snot to the mix. She sets this on the floor and then drops a clean apron and lacy maid’s headpiece next to it. Her dept
