Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Needy Greedy Love (Part 3)

Their eyes met again, and then they did some hot, smoking, crazy, burning hot as smoldering Geo Storm necking, the monitors flashing their lights in perfect rhythm to their kissing.

Afterward, Gunn asked her, "What is your name?"

"Cat," she purred.

"Me ... ow," he said with a hiss. "Move in with me," he said movingly.

"OK," she said shortly.

They moved in together that very night, even though no major moving company would be open until 8 AM, and it was a virtual impossibility to get a U-Haul on weekends when most people moved because they didn't want to take a day off from their jobs, and they always lie about how much stuff you can fit in one of those trucks anyway because "Can contain three rooms" really means "Can contain three closets and two empty shoe boxes."

Cat complimented Gunn on his central vacuuming, his gourmet kitchen, his Cuisinart, his indoor/outdoor pool, his robot vacuum that circled the living room, and his collection of rare embroidered tea cozies.

They were instantly in love.

They felt love and full of love from the bottoms of their feet to the tops of their craniums. They felt love from their ingrown toenails to their dandruff. They felt love from their corns and bunions to the tops of their split ends.

They felt, obviously, a lot of freaking love.

And they shared their love all night, loving everything about each other and necking continuously without hydration until the Vicodin kicked in.

After four hours of intense tonsil hockey, they each lay back on Gunn's enormous black leather sectional sofa to think thoughtful thoughts.

Cat thought thoughtless thoughts. Did I turn off my curling iron this morning? I hope I did. I forgot to check. I have no memory at all. Did I turn off my curling iron this morning. Wait. I thought about that already. I think I thought about it. The economy really sucks! What is a recession anyway? If a recession is bad, is a procession good? Why don't they ever say we're in a procession? I need to wax my legs again. My legs could sand a redwood tree down to a toothpick. I wonder how high this ceiling is. This is a nice sofa. I'll bet Gunn rotates his cushions every three months like you're supposed to do. I never do it. The ants eating the crumbs under my couch cushions won't let me because they claim that they were subletting the apartment first. I hope he likes dogs. Did I eat today? That wench of a nurse gave me dirty looks. I'll bet she wanted to hook up with Gunn, too. And why was she wearing makeup? It must have been because of all the lights and cameras. She didn't even speak English. Did I pay my electric bill this month? I hope I didn't and they cut me off. Then I won't have to worry whether or not I turned off my curling iron.

Gunn tried in vain to focus on Cat. She is so hot. I'm hungry. Her skin is so smooth and soft! I'm very hungry. There is some leftover tuna casserole in the fridge. I like her stamina. Wish I had some Gatorade. I am so dehydrated. I can reheat that casserole. It might taste just as good the second time. Soup! I could eat some chicken noodle soup with some crackers. I hope they're not stale. Once I ate a cracker that bent to a ninety-degree angle before it broke.


>Go to the next part by clicking on the archive at right<

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