Fat

I wake up and put the kettle on the stove. We are going to be having a French press. Musette grabbed a pen and pad of paper first thing this morning to figure bills out.

I do some dishes, more than enough to eat a bowl of Reese’s Puff cereal which was my impetus. Piper is talking to me. She asks me if I’ll be having an espresso. Wagner is on the radio, but I skip it because I am not an opera fan. Now it is Prokofiev.  She tells me (redacted).

Musette just pooped. I’ve got to poop.

I go into the bathroom and release as she is sitting on the counter filling in her eyebrows.

Piper asks if she should let him.

I ask her why not?

She compliments me for questioning my morals, and says that she does not believe I am old.

‘What if I’m 14?’

She says that might be weird but that she would be willing to play the role of bad teacher so long as I am hot.

Pringles says I’m fat, because I just reblog porn all day.

She asks me if I am.

‘Yea.’

She wants me to show her. She knows I don’t take pictures. But she should know that fat people don’t have spouses. They live alone and work out until they can become arrogantly extroverted.

She tells me there is so much breast milk going on.

I tell her to feed it to Pringles.

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