Archive for the Dark Side of Romance Category

Puss(Y)?

Posted in Dark Fiction, Dark Side of Romance, Literary Fiction, Prose, Short Story, Transgressive Fiction, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 13, 2012 by JC Cecala

“I love little pussy,

Her coat is so warm,”

Her knuckles rattled against the front door. Offbeat syncopation on rectangular, red panels. She shifted her weight onto one leg. Knockknocknock knock knock knockknocknock…knock.

“And if I don’t hurt her,

She’ll do me no harm.”

French tipped nails dug into the gray, leather satchel she was holding as her hearing strained. Footsteps coming closer to the door. Hard light from inside struck her momentarily blind as she stood on those front steps in the dark.

“What is it, Puss?” He recycled a rehearsed sigh.

Eyes were now tiny, brown apertures in her head. Looking at a face she had grown to abhor, her tightened lips slowly relaxed, spread back into their natural scowl before curling into the type of grin that made people uneasy.

“I just wanted you to know…I found her.”

The look of annoyance he wore moments ago melted into an apprehensiveness. He let go of the door handle and stepped closer to a night she was enveloped in.

The silhouette that draped behind her swayed. He looked at the satchel and watched her loosen the strings keeping it fastened.

“You found her?”

A slow nod. She gave it with deliberate subtlety, not once drawing attention from the man before her. Not to see if anyone else was in his home. Not to see which sitcom or sporting event was taking place on the 52” plasma screen she bought him for his 25th birthday. Not when there was a show taking place on his familiar face.

The woman looked on as this visage altered without him even knowing. Contempt, shock, panic, angst, excitement, moved across the brim of nose, the arch of his brows, his bottom lip, consecutively. All of this within the matter of a moment, without having to buy a ticket or sit through commercials or coming attractions. He didn’t express that much emotion the entire three and half years they were together. I guess he cares about his own puss more than mine she thought.

 She shoved her fist into the bag.

“…What?”

The hand she revealed had fingers like claws, gripping something gray and powdery. Puzzled, he looked from her hand to the mien of indifference she had.

“What the hell?” He raised on the tips of his toes to see over her, searching his yard “ Where’s Angel?”

Drawing in a deep breath. She blew the ashes she held into his face. Squinting, hands fanning, he moved back from her, back from the black outside. The right corner of her mouth edged upward and her eyes softened.

“…Meowww.”

The next show that flashed across his face was brilliant. Eyes spinning, blood draining from his head then reappearing, splashed beneath his pasty cheeks. Lips trembling, tongue jabbing at the roof of his mouth then his teeth, feeling around for the four letter words.

The satchel hit the ground just as a noise forced itself from his tight throat.

“And the next time you want pussy,” a slight giggle “Just look in the mirror, baby.”

Fists trembling, his vision lifted from the bag to the cackling woman running down the front steps of his house and towards the street.

“You crazy fucking bitch, I’ll kill you!”

I let the laughter burst from my lungs, feeling them shrink, shrivel, before I sucked in a deep breath and bolted full force. My heels clattered against the pavement…yes, I said heels. You weren’t going to catch me putting on a performance in a pair of flats.

Drew Fuller was just that. Full. Full of utter bullshit, and if he thought I was going to overlook that little character flaw he was dead wrong. As dead as that damn cat he loves so much…loved so much. Angel. More like ashes now.

Believe it or not, he’s the love of my life. We’re mad about one another. Really, we are. So much in fact, we were engaged. There’s a five carrot emerald cut diamond sitting on a lovely white gold band in one of these pawn shops somewhere in this town, that used to reside on my left ring finger. It resided on his grandmother’s ring finger before that. November 1st, our intended wedding date. He knows my deep adoration for autumn and his birthday is the first week of that month so it was perfect.

Don’t mind the expletives he’s shouting and derogatory names he’s referring to me as whilst we sprint down this quiet suburban street. He’s just a little…bitter about the way things played out. Don’t tell him I said that, though, because he’d never own up to it.

Now, I know, I know, I seem like a terrible human being. I blew the ashes of a dead cat in his face. The death was painless. I euthanized little Angel first…Then, I lit the bitch on fire. You see, I’m working towards my degree in veterinary medicine so I’d never allow any living creature to suffer. Unlike Drew Fuller, I have a heart.

There was a time when I was the only kitty in Drew’s life.

Puss, come here.” Drew called from the living room.

“What is it?”

“Come here.”

She rushed out of the kitchen in her imitation little Susie Homemaker get-up, apron-clad, spatula in one hand.

“What?” Potential whining lurked in her tone.

“I just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

Scraper flung to the floor. Fingers gripped the row of buttons trailing Drew’s shirt. Straddling. She infused their mouths into one before penetrating him with her tongue. Gripping her waist before palming her posterior, he slipped his digits beneath the hemline of her miniskirt, his fingertips gentle against lace underwear.

The buttons grew irritating. The shirt was torn open. His chest was beautiful. The perfect pectoral muscles sat solid above a hard abdomen that made her lips wet.

“The, the dinner,” he managed to get that and her tongue out of his mouth “What am I gonna eat? I-It’s gonna burn.”

“I want it to.”

She pushed her face back into his. Excitement throbbed through his blue jeans and she leaned into him harder, sliding her bare thighs against the denim, up and down. Basking in the sensations of her pelvis pressing against his he continued to caress the delicate skin on the small of her back, the supple round flesh of her backside.

“Kiss me…”

His lips were slapped away when he tried to press them onto hers. She dug her heels into the sofa and hoisted herself up, lifting her apron, pulling her skirt around her waist before tugging her panties to the side.

“Kiss me,” She repeated.

 Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep. Faint clouds of smoke were seeping into the living room.

“Harder!” She demanded.

A collision of the bodies. Pelvic bones slamming intensely, slick lips and cheeks aglow. Growling, thighs clenched around his waist, skin rubbing violently against beige carpet.

She flipped him onto his back and whipped a lustrous mane of dirty blonde locks over her shoulders. Gazing down at the prey beneath her, she dug her claws into his chest before completely consuming him.

“Puss..Puss!”

Drew’s focus drifted from the necklace of sweat beads trickling along her collar bone, the movement quivering through her bare breasts as she pounced, over and over again, wet flesh slapping against wet flesh. A thin veil of smoke crept across the ceiling, loomed above, and his eyes went wide. Unsure if it was from fear of the house erupting in flames or the unbridled sensations of euphoria trailing his appendages, his mouth gaped to mention the danger.

“Puss!..Oh my God, don’t stop..”

He can’t live without me, really. This entire charade he’s putting on is ridiculous. Ignoring my phone calls and text messages. Pretending not to be home when I come by. It’s all just a way for him to feel like he’s in control. To make me out to be the crazy one. Yeah, right. If either of us is fucking looney, it’s Drew Fuller.

Right now his hefty boy ass is chasing me down the street at 11 o’clock at night, shouting, screaming, like a deranged Fat Camp escapee . Don’t worry, he won’t catch me. You see, Drew has put on a lot of weight over the last five or six months. Probably trying to eat his sorrows away, not-so-secretly longing for me.

Shhh. You hear that? Sounds like he stopped chasing me. See, I told you. Nothing to worry about.

Distance between them was growing wider and his energy continued to dwindle. Not exercising in months, being unable to play sports, was taking its toll. Putting an end to the engagement wasn’t proving effective either.

He looked around and a few houses ahead he spotted a gravel yard he’d driven by every day since he moved into the neighborhood. Veering towards the tiny region of rocks, his pace slowed down. She was aware of this because her dashes were now a trot. Gripping the biggest stone he could find he dashed back into the street, keeping his eye on the target. His body twisted at a 90 degree angle and pulled his stone-yielding right hand by his ear. Pivoting his left foot he wound back before thrusting his arm forward in a circular arc, releasing the rock.

It went sailing smoothly across the starless sky but his focus, undivided, remained on the moving target; golden hair swaying on a bobble head, a bobble head that within seconds of being blitzed, collided face first into pavement.

Every step I took was one of caution as I approach her motionless body. You never know with her. She’s so hot and cold, so black and white. I told her she should be tested for bipolar disorder…I used to date a girl who was bipolar. She wasn’t nearly as fucked up.

Looking at her lay there I couldn’t help but think about the things I used to do to that body. She had the perfect shape…still does. Firm ass, tiny waist, great set of tits, beautiful face. Why are the most gorgeous girls always bat shit crazy? Ugh! I hate her…I do.

You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about killing this body beneath me. Literally, so many ways I’ve thought about it. On a cruise ship for her birthday. During a hiking trip she didn’t really want to go on, but did anyway to prove how amazing a fiancée she is…was…while she bitched and moaned the whole time.

Nothing gruesome. Something simple. An accidental drowning, or maybe she’d lose control of her car because of faulty wiring on her breaks. Now, staring down at her, not moving, I won’t lie… I’m wondering if she’d fit in the cooler I have in my garage.

“Get up.” No response.

There’s no one outside. Just a handful of parked cars and the full moon hiding behind soot-colored clouds. Other than that it’s just she and I and a few streetlights. I squat down, tap her shoulder. Still nothing. There’s a small patch of blood on the back of her head, saturating her hair. It doesn’t look too serious so I flip her over.

Her breasts are the first thing I notice. I grab them, pinching her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Wonder what it’d feel like inside of her when she’s passed out. She’s a head case but she still gets me hard. So I slide my palms upward, over her chest, her collarbone, and I slip my fingers around her neck. I look up at her face and that’s when I draw my hands back.

Crimson is smeared across the bottom half of her face, smudged on her nasal septum, tiny trickles sliding down her cheeks. Her mouth is a little opened which is how I notice– her front teeth are missing.

I look at the pavement in front of us. Maybe they’re there? I don’t see them. I should leave her here. Right here in the middle of the street. Maybe a car will run her over…make this world a better place. I doubt it’d be that easy to get rid of Sybil, though.

“You’re the prettiest mess I’ve ever seen…”

I sound like the second coming of Ted Bundy, don’t I? But you don’t know the torture Satan’s crafty minion here, has put me through.

I used to be in love with her…the bloody broad on the pavement. She’s like those girls in the movies. The one that enters a room and all attention is drawn to her. The girl that makes all of the other girls insecure so they instantly hate that slut and her fake Louis Vuitton bag, while the guys are secretly thinking I wonder what she tastes like. When you first meet her she’s real charming too. She’s got her sports trivia down and a tongue so sharp it could split hairs. That’s long before you realize it’s going to spend more time slicing you up like a pig carcass hanging in a butcher shop.

I first saw her four years ago, strutting around campus at Arizona State. She was usually by herself and I never really saw her talking to anyone. Always in her own little world, either listening to the music blaring from her earbuds or with her nose in a text book. It was my senior year and I had, I guess, a reputation for being a ladies man and she looked like the kind of girl that could catch a whiff of bullshit from a mile away.

When I spotted her at an off campus party, I couldn’t help myself. I wore my badge of liquid courage and I approached her.

“Hey.”

She met his greeting with a poker face.

“What’s your name?”

A smirk “Do you really care?”

“Of course I do, that’s why I asked.”

“What do you think?”

He rubbed his chin and observed her, his vision molesting her face, slipping in between her cleavage, sliding down her navel then making its way between the length of her legs.

“You look really sexy…sensual, but I can tell you’re smart…clever. You almost look innocent, but there’s something about your eyes. You look like a cat.”

“A Cat?” She chuckled

He had made her smile and for whatever reason, it made him smile. When her teeth came out from behind that mysterious mouth of hers, she wasn’t as intimidating. It almost made her seem childlike.

“Yeah. Kitty. Kitten. Feline. Pussy. You know.”

“No, you know.”

“I know what?”

“Pussy.” She raised a brow and stared at him.

Caught off guard, he stood there, fingers sweaty, wrapped around a red plastic cup. Had she really just made that bold of a statement? How was he going to respond without being deemed either chauvinistic or womanizing?

“Cat got your tongue?”

He nodded “You’ve had my tongue all night.”

She laughed “Oh, I forgot. I’m the cat.”

“Yeah. You’re a regular Miss Galore.”

“I should hope not,” She winked, sauntering by him into the darkened living room turned dance floor “For your sake.”

He left his thoughts behind. His let his body follow hers.

That was my senior year. We won the National Championship Game. I averaged 181 tackles that season; more than I ever have! 35 tackles for losses, 7 sacks, 3 interceptions. I was drafted in round one, 6% body fat, triathlon completer, gym junkie …and now I can’t catch this bitch running in a pair of high heels.

At twenty-two I was already a second string middle linebacker for the Arizona Cardinals. I was the protégé of a veteran linebacker. 38 years old and practically legendary, he was a great player, but every day he was getting older and every day I was getting better. I was going to be first string, starter until I had my accident.

I was in a great place. An amazing place in all facets of my life. All of these dreams I’d conjured up in my head since I was a little boy were finally here. I was a college graduate pro-athlete living with a woman I knew I was going to marry. She was a lot to deal with sometimes, a mouthful most times, but she made me feel what I had never experienced before. Sure, we fought and argued a lot, but all couples do. I proposed to her after my first year in the NFL.

The night before, we got into a heated argument. If you ask her, she’ll tell you I’m the jealous one. Secretive, possessive, always with an ulterior motive. Horse shit. She talks a good talk. Her mouth says one thing, but those roaming eyes of hers say different. I figured, I’ve been thinking about marrying this girl for months now. She’s not much of a cook but she’s learning, she’s smart as fuck, she’s got goals and ambitions, and she gives the best blow jobs I’ve ever had. Seriously, the things she does with her tongue…and her hand, mouth coordination…man.

We went to bed that night and said nary a word to one another. Morning arrived and she woke up. I wasn’t asleep next to her. She propped herself up on her elbows and whipped her head to where mine should have been and on my pillow lay my late grandmother’s engagement ring. Of course she said yes. Of course it was followed by some of the best fucking of my life.

Careless, Drew tossed the enervated body over his shoulder and trekked back towards the home he had abandoned, door open, lights on, fifteen minutes earlier. He dropped her in the passenger seat of his convertible and watched as her head slumped forward and droplets of blood splattered on her bare thighs. He threw an oil stained towel over her lap because blood was a pain in the ass to remove from leather seats.

The ash filled satchel was kicked into his house before he shut everything off and locked up. Not bothering to buckle her seat belt he sped out of his garage and she rocked and swayed with every turn of the steering wheel. Then the two were on their way to the nearest emergency room.

The day of my accident I met with a young woman named Angel at a nearby cafe. She worked at a jewelry store my friend recommended so I talked to her about some ideas I had for different rings and necklaces. I knew my fiancée wasn’t thrilled about the old school design of my grandmother’s engagement ring and I wanted her to have one she could show off.

Later that day I met up with my soon to be wife for some rock climbing. She was eager to climb which shocked the hell out of me. I stood back as she looked at the structural geology, checking for fractures and cracks. When she volunteered to do the anchoring I told her to go for it. I loved that she was finally warming up to an activity I enjoyed. She collected the pitons and aluminum chockstones before making it about 15 feet up and vanishing into the mouth of a small cave. Down dropped a lengthy piece of rope.

“You alright?” I shouted, securing my harness.

“I’m fine,” She responded “Come on up!”

I’m not sure what happened. The anchor wasn’t sturdy and gave way. I managed to break the fall…with my body. A broken ankle and dislocated shoulder later and I was sitting out the upcoming season.

I worked my ass off during physical therapy. I had to come back harder, stronger, faster. I had finally had a taste of the life I wanted and that wasn’t enough.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m losing weight..lost muscle mass.”

“Is that bad?”

“Yes! I’m a fucking linebacker, Puss! What are you, stupid?”

“You cheat death and suddenly you’re fearless? That’s real cute. Fearless or not, they all fall down when you run them over with a car.”

And that was the shit I hated. She always had some smart ass comment. Never could I have the last say.

“I’m sorry, Puss.”

“I know you are,” She gazed at her reflection in a hand mirror “You’re one sorry mother fucker.”

I rolled my eyes “I was thinking…I know this guy. He could get me…”

“…get you what?”

“You know…”

“Oh, that’s right,” She slapped her forehead before gawking at me “ I’m a mind reader! How on earth did I forget? Of course I know what you’re talking about without you giving me any sort of details. Yeah, of course I do!”

 Fucking bitch.

“Steroids…” I mumbled.

Turning towards me she hesitated.

“You inject those in your ass right?”

“Yeah.”

“You need me to do it for you? You know…since you’re all gimpy and what not.”

Walking into the bathroom, syringe in hand, she sat on the toilet as Drew leaned against the sink.

“I don’t think this is working.” He said, side-eyeing himself in the mirror.

He had noticed a roundness to his face. The definition in his arms seemed to be lessening as the weeks rolled by.

“Shouldn’t I be having bursts of energy..mood swings or something?”

“You have more mood swings than a pregnant, schizophrenic woman off of her meds. Trust me.”

She took pleasure in pulling down his basketball shorts and found the act of removing his briefs to be more than erotic. Two plump, round cheeks, not as firm as they once were, staring back at her. Her fingers grazed across his lower back and over the tantalizing flesh protruding from beneath.

“Puss–”

“I’m sorry! You’re just…so titillating.”

Sighing, he hung his head “What are you on? I’m an out of shape slob. My tits are almost bigger than yours.”

“Nonsense.”

She kissed the small of his back and the trembles sent an erection through him.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” She quizzed, gripping his member “ Looks like you like it.”

She stuck the syringe into him. His upper right buttock clenched and she dug her teeth into the left one.

“Nutty fucking bitch!” He shouted, the expressway wind whipping against his face.

“Yeah, I gained weight alright. 30lbs…30lbs of fucking blubber!”

Ever heard of insulin? Don’t know what it does? Let me give you a quick rundown. Your pancreas produces a hormone; insulin. It’s responsible for moving all of the carbohydrates and fats and amino acids into your cells. Now, if your insulin levels are too high or too low it can have a negative impact on your health and cause you to start gaining weight. I’m a big guy…I play football. I get paid to crush, pummel, and slam into grown men moving like freight trains. I can easily consume 6,000, 7,000 calories a day.

Guess what my lovely ex-fiancée was injecting me with. Oh, go on, give it a go, guess. I’ll give you a hint. It wasn’t the steroids my buddy had given me. Here’s another clue. She’s going to school to be a vet and has access to all sorts of medications…think about it.

Glancing around, fluorescent lights shone brightly overhead and she winced.

“Thoo mush lithe.” She mumbled.

“I know. Evil prefers to lurk in darkness.”

Drew watched her look grow increasingly disheveled. She instantly shut her mouth and he could tell she realized her front teeth were missing. She was not yet aware of the bald patch on the back of her head or the seven stitches.

“Oh my Gah…oh my fucking Gah!”

“Calm down.”

“Fuck you, fat boy! My theeth.”

Writhing around in the hospital bed her screeching fluctuated in volume while she flailed like a princess out of her element. After about thirty seconds she ceased, a low growl bubbling in the back of her throat.

“You did thith,” She exclaimed “You guther crawgling peeth of–”

“No, you did this to yourself. I told you to stay out of my life. Leave me alone! But you just keep coming back. You’re like some sick, sadistic, obsessive–”

“Me?” She gasped with dramatic disbelief “I’m obthethive? You luth me, Ankrew. You luth me tho mush tha ith eaths away ath you when you’re by yourthelf. I’m awuh you think abouth when you’re shacking off thoo bad porn. A rithuh peeth uhb you dies efry thime I croth your mind becauth you wan me. You still luth me.”

Shaking his head he sat up in his chair, looking directly across the small room at this frizzy haired, bloody, perfect breasted, no-front-teeth having succubus.

Drew glanced at a pair of officers walking by the room, laughing with one another. A nurse stopped in the doorway.

“Oh…oh my, you’re..You’re Andrew Fuller.”

He nodded and gave a smile “Yes, miss, that’s me.”

“Oh…I, I’m sorry, am I interrupting? I don’t mean to be rude, I just didn’t expect to see you sittin’ here. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh, why thank you,” he stood up “That’s very nice of you.”

She sat there, propped up with a head held high. Her make up of smudged eyeliner, blotchy foundation, and dry blood. Two broken nails, hair styled like an utter catastrophe, donning a paper gown that was two sizes too big. All of this with no front teeth to bare while clenching her jaw.

Tears sat patiently in the corners of her eyes, remaining estranged to the conversation happening before her. Drew autographed a random piece of scrap paper and briefly discussed how he was currently in negotiations for returning next season. His injuries had healed pretty well and his physical therapy was helping. Apparently, he planned on getting back into the gym within the next few weeks. He never mentioned that, but freely shared this with a stranger, right in front of her

“Sweetheart,” the nurse said, her attention shifting from Drew “Are..are you alright. Are you in any pain?”

No was frail and passive as it squeaked from dry vocal chords and she pulled her knees to her chest, clutching herself like a timid little girl. Hesitant, the nurse was gracious as she thanked Drew for his autograph before leaving the room.

Once the nurse had gone he heard “Eben with thoo chinth and four thumicks you find a way thoo flirt.”

“What the fuck are you babbling about, Sandra Bernhard?”

She shot a glare across the room as she crawled out of bed and wrapped herself in the sheet.

“Oh, thath ith rish coming from Homer Thimpthon’s reaw wife thwin.”

“Where are you going?”

Without an answer she exited the room, powder blue fabric trailing behind her.

From the window he could see a handful of stars dusted across a 2am sky. Maybe she was right? Did he still love her the way a man loves a woman he wants to see behind an all white veil? Or did he love her the way a lonely man loves a prostitute? Could he still love her? A woman who injected him with animal insulin. A woman who committed murder. Kidnapped, burned and kept the ashes of a defenseless being. What turned her into this wild beast he didn’t recognize. She wasn’t like this in the beginning. Stubborn, outspoken, strong-willed, she was, but this insanity just came about within the last eight or nine months.

“Andrew Fuller?”

I watched him turn from the window and once the cops fell into his line of sight the show I had been watching earlier, the one that took place around his eyes, started up again.

“…Yes?”

I wiped my tears away and slinked backwards, pressing my back against the wall. Within my peripheral vision I could see a small group of nurses gathering, including the young woman who had just received an autograph. What do you think about your star athlete now? I thought.

“We uh, we want to talk to you…ask you a few questions.”

“Questions?”

The younger officer of the two moved in closer and in a low tone said “This young woman says that…you hit her over the head and knocked her teeth out.”

Instantly Drew’s eyes met mine. I forced more tears, felt them streaming down my face, leaving streaks of my skin exposed beneath the chipping, dry blood. I know I looked  like road kill. After all, I had been earlier that night.

“No! No, it’s not like that.”

“Mr. Fuller, we don’t want any trouble..we don’t wanna make a scene but, the nurses said that you’re the one who brought her in…and she’s telling us you did this to her. I mean…look at her…she looks like a terrified little kitten over there.”

“This is fucking bullshit!”

“Mr. Fuller, please don’t make any raucous or we’ll have to cuff you. We don’t wanna do that.”

“Arrest me for what? Where’s your proof, huh? Where’s your evidence? You wanna arrest someone, arrest her. She’s the criminal. She’s a murderer!”

“Ankrew please–” I started to protest.

“You!” Was all he said as he charged towards me.

I filled my lungs with as much air as I could inhale before releasing a blood curdling scream. I pushed myself into the wall and pulled the itchy, blue sheets eye level before slumping to the ground. I once found a letter he wrote, stashed in the back pocket of a dirty pair of cargo shorts. Somewhere in the chicken scratch penmanship read: blue looks best on you because it brings out your eyes…my brown eyes, huh?

There was a commotion but I wasn’t concerned with that. I was having my Meryl Streep moment and making it damn memorable. Oscar nomination, anyone? I felt gentle hands on me, pulling me up. Two of the nurses crowding my spotlight.

“Honey, it’s okay. Don’t worry, they’ve got him.”

He was handcuffed. Not putting up as much of a struggle as I thought, I listened as they read him his miranda rights.

“Andrew Fuller.”

“Cunt.”

“You have a right to an attorney.”

“You fucking cunt.”

“Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

I love seeing him angry. It’s such a turn on. So brutish and manly when there’s rage smoldering under that cool exterior. I hate doing this to him…somewhere deep down within me, I’m sure I do. But Drew Fuller had to understand. You can’t go around stroking every cat you want to. Especially not in open areas such as cute, quaint little cafes with pretty blue eyed girls. You see, it’s like I said, Drew Fuller is full of shit. He thinks he’s God’s gift to this world so of course I had to show him, you can return any gift as long as you have the receipt.

“Puss, why?” His tone had softened and once near, he stopped walking, both officers on either side of him “Puss, why?”

“Offither…do be careful with him going down or up sthairs. I dun wan him haffing any other nasthy falls. He can be tho clueleth thometime.”

“We will, miss.”

“Oh, and–” I paused, gave my worrisome eyes “…hith girlfriendth name ith Angel. Pleath try to call her to led her know heeth there, though…she mighth be hard to reesh theeth dayths.”

Eyes wide, a light went off in his head. Suddenly, the show I had been watching was over. Drew Fuller was without expression as he was guided from the room through the cluster of onlookers that had formed. My chunky prince charming, drifting away right in front of me.

So I’ll not pull her tail,

 Nor drive her away..

 He’s killing me. Drew Fuller. How many lives does he think I have?

 But pussy and I,

 Very gently will play.

  Hm, I need a manicure, stat…I wonder what the visiting hours are in prison.