fire-down-below

Duke was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her. She got in and started the car. Duke busted into a Slim Jim of his own. __ou hairy toad fucker. That stuff__ nasty. Your toilet must be like a nuclear reactor._ Dove turned on her windshield wipers as a light mist seemed to fracture the glass. ____ sorry, Whore Basket. I couldn__ hear you over the noise of you crapping your pants!_ Duke took another huge bite and chewed the waxy meat like gum. __his stuff is off the charts. I could eat vats of it.

Here__ the deal. We go in, you stand there like the asshole you are, and I explain you aren__ gay lovers with the pharmacist. Sound good?_ Dove clicked her blinker on and checked her side mirror. __ll I heard was blah, blah, holding your dick later, blah, blah._ Duke rolled down his window and stuck his face into the night.

That__ sweet. Nice of you._ Johnson put his hands in his pockets. Dove couldn__ help but wonder if he was massaging a sore bag of testicles. Dove looked around, and Johnson shuffled his feet. It seemed neither knew what to say, but she hoped neither wanted to part ways either. Johnson__ default was always medical. __ow__ your infection?_ Die. Die. Kill me. __t___ cleared up_ nicely._ Dove twisted her hand into her hair.

Dove found Flower waiting outside her apartment. Flower was staring at her Doc Martins and in a very slow-motion move; she looked up at Dove. __esus!_ Flower__ eyes were wide and her mouth stayed open. Dove wanted to ask, __ad Jesus or good Jesus?_, but Flower had already used almost half her allotted words on Dove__ predicament. She felt guilty asking for more.

Dove held out a hand to Johnson, and he took it__ot because they were fleeing a fire and not because she was holding a million dollars. He took her hand to wrap his fingers around hers. His long, long fingers. Her knees went a little watery. Johnson placed a hand on her lower back to steady her. Her ass went a little watery. The trip up her stairs took longer than Ulysses on his epic journey. Johnson took the keys from her hand and opened her door.

Thank fucking God. Christ, sorry about praying with __ucking._ Shit! Sorry about saying __hrist!_ Shut up, Dove. God hates you.

Get me your manager._ Dove held her head high and tried to seem older and more self-assured. The teenager barely registered her request. __o it now. My friend here is about to crap his pants. Do you want to smell it?_ Dove slapped her hands down on the counter, snapping the life into the girl. __o you want to smell his shit?