Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

Basement


I haven’t been able to keep up with my blog because mom locked me in the basement. She tied me up too. She also didn’t give me any real food, just plantain chips and Materva, which is a soda from Peru made in America. I hate mice and there were mice in the basement. In any case, I’m free now, at last. I’m going to poke mom’s eyes out so she can’t see when I stick my tongue out at her or give her the finger. That really pisses her off. It also pisses her off when I hide her cigarettes and beer and bong and tell her she has buck teeth. Mom doesn’t smoke pot but she acts like a crockpot on crack, not pot. She’s whack. (I am too.) She loves her bong because it reminds her of dad, of the gay guy that gave me to her without her permission or written consent. FYI: I wasn’t really in the basement, but mom was and she’s totally fine now. I think.

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I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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