“Listen to me, Jensy, I ought to show you to the door,” I said.
“You’re talking like a bitch.”
I wanted to fuck Jensy.
“Sebastian, I can see right through you, so shut up,” she said.
“You’ve been reading Poyo again. I know you have. I can see it in your writing. You’re not an original, you’re ripping off Poyo. The last good book of yours I read was Haunted House Whores and that was years ago.”
I stood up from the counter top, walked over and sat by Jensy on the couch. I kissed her lightly on the mouth.
“Poyo died when an unfinished sculpture of Saint Anthony fell on him, crushed him,” I said.
“You’re an obsessive, Sebastian,” Jensy pulled out her compact mirror and checked her face.
“You’re talking like a bitch.”
I wanted to fuck Jensy.
“Sebastian, I can see right through you, so shut up,” she said.
“You’ve been reading Poyo again. I know you have. I can see it in your writing. You’re not an original, you’re ripping off Poyo. The last good book of yours I read was Haunted House Whores and that was years ago.”
I stood up from the counter top, walked over and sat by Jensy on the couch. I kissed her lightly on the mouth.
“Poyo died when an unfinished sculpture of Saint Anthony fell on him, crushed him,” I said.
“You’re an obsessive, Sebastian,” Jensy pulled out her compact mirror and checked her face.
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