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Avery Rose Madison

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February 4th, 2007

Stray Cat

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Shit, guys.  So I'm sitting in the living room rocking out to some Nine Inch Nails, cello-style, and Make Believe Father walks in with some crack junkie on his arm.  So obvious that she was on something.  Dressed like a total skank, too.  I figured they were out on a date, but here's a hindsight-fueled realization: that was giving him way too much street cred.

She's some kind of pet project for him.  I don't know.  He brought her over to try and help her out or something. Is there an AA for crack junkies where they need to have sponsors?

So.  The slutbeast took the couch.  I can't even tell you how big a relief that was.  I had these visions in my head of waking up to hear unholy wails of pleasure coming from the next bedroom.  Again, totally giving pseudo-Dad too much credit as a badass, but at the time all I could think about was the barrage of sirens tearing through my brain, screaming, "POTENTIAL PARENTAL SEX ALERT."

Gross.

I made sure to cart my cello back to my room before I conked out.  Locked the door, too.  If she was going to go all psycho killer on the apartment, I figured she could at least work at it.  She was gone by the time I got up, so I guess I made it through alive.  This time.

Kinda wonder if she stole anything.

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