She opens the door and there she is less beautiful.
Again with that gloom.
Thank god this is going to be quick as it was just a delivery for me. My smile hid my achy arms and fingers that loved her years ago. I play nice and she offers little to sooth my uneasiness in this nice home on a nice court in the nice hills of southern orange county.
That's the just the way it goes some days.
I stand and dare not walk further in other than to deliver the breakables. On the couch sits the whale of the new guy with his fat moneyed hands. The Super Bowl is on and I toss him a hello and a generic wave over to the mass that doesn’t notice me over that turkey leg, or miniature schnauzer he's munching on.
(well, excuse the fuck out of me)
He jams the bleeding, limb dangling buffalo carcass into the mouth attached to his Robert Arneson-esque sculpture (that's being nice) knob. Cartilage sounds - stressed and pulled with each gnarred turn, his massive floppy lip over jawhead continues to eat.
Must be nice not to worry about skipping dinner to feed someone else over another inch added. He has plenty to give, to spend, to make sure all are fed, especially him three times over. Leave the hope for half eaten, left over meals for me. That’s my only real beef with the good him. The good, he's just another guy like me, him that has to be there.
He ate that guy
I'm not a big fan of his false southern oc, I'm a regular person too attitude. Yeah I don’t like it. I call bullshit.
The gloom hangs around her still and I don't like to see her this way and never will. Three quick turns and I’m back on the Golden State in a better state.
That gloom is not my problem anymore.
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