It's been agreed the whole world stinks so no one's taking showers anymore

"But you said we would go at the end of the month.You said it wasn't going to be another winter here."

Chelle scratched the scab on the back of his hand. There was nothing left but some dried bits of crusty epidermis-death clinging to a dreidel-shaped itching pink spot brought into existence by a vat of broccoli cheddar soup. The molten potage slopped over the side onto the back of his hand while he staggered down the hall past the distractors and commuters of addiction, chain smoking outside the kitchen door or huddled on the couch with all their knitting and needlepoint.

Fucking AA meetings. The ability to get through the weekly circle jerks to the frailty of self and the subsequent celebration therein, was fueled entirely by a well-appointed glove box holding the flask of Jameson to wash down the quick kiss from Mary Jane who slept in a Children's Tylenol bottle underneath an Illinois state map and a pack of Big Red.

"Jeanne, I can't help if the fucking job hasn't begun yet. Shall we just head to Jupiter and ask if anyone wants to let us stay in their basement? 'Hey, my job doesn't begin for 6 weeks and I am a convicted felon. My girlfriend here is struggling with bulimia, baby-hunger and mild alcoholism. She can't work because she finds work either too boring or stressful. I promised her I would take care of her because she tolerates my disappearing every now and then and she gives great head which I enjoy after finishing a plate of lasagna- which she cooks very well. I also guess that I love her. So, anyway. Mind if we crash here until I can begin my new job? We don't have savings or anything because, see the first bullet point- prision made it hard to save up and what with Miss B&P not working...."
Jeanne stood and walked out of the room, his tshirt slinked over the pink panties that hung grumpily off her round little ass as she stormed down the hall toward the bedroom. Talking to her in this hot apartment while black branches scratched the salty grey windows on November's last Wednesday made him feel uncomfortable. Yes but. Uncomforatble like he was sitting in a hot tub wearing a sweatshirt and jeans.