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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Experience · #1561288
An alcoholic man is pushed to a breaking point by an equally unstable landlord.
Alice was drunk again. My first clues were the little tupperwear containers of assorted foods in the fridge as well as a litter of pots and pans filling the sink, soaking in a greasy swamp of soap and water. Alice liked to get drunk and burn stuff. Luckily "stuff" consisted of only food so far. She had a habit of attempting to cook several things at once. The more polluted she became, the more she would neglect her already ridiculous attempt at playing chef. She was like Evil-Kinevel with an apron. One phone call would send her staggering around the townhouse babbling on the cordless phone to some poor relative or another whom she had taken hostage. Ten minutes later she would find her way back to the smokey kitchen, slap the smoke detector of the ceiling with a broom, and open all the windows. Next she would scrape all the burnt shit out of her assorted pots, pans, and casserole dishes into a seemingly endless supply of dollar store tupperwear. The ritual wouldn't be complete until she put annoying little post it notes on each one..."IRANIAN BEAN SOUP, ENJOY", "HOMEMADE BEEF POT-PIE, HELP YOURSELF", "CHICKEN MARINATED IN BEAN CURD SAUCE, YUM-YUM". Each one with a stupid smiley face scrawled on it.
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