It’s Musette’s and my Friday tomorrow which is today. It is also Atlas’ birthday. I was the one among us who first stopped wishing the other felicitations. He followed shortly after. Once this happened, it felt like our friendship had really come to an end. Yet here I am still writing about him.
I’m vaping off the Juul that the Ploom representative gave me and which I subsequently gave to Musette. The schmiggy is dead, just for the night. It’s charging off of a cord connected to the back of my computer. There is a Powerade bottle filled with a mixture of blueberry lemonade and water that I am drinking out of. It is almost empty, so I got to the kitchen and fill it up. The kitchen is clean. Musette and I cleaned it today. I did the dishes and she did the rest.
My movements wake the dog who gets up and shakes around. He has been doing that a lot recently. I think he might have irritated ears, possibly an allergic reaction to the food that he is eating, possibly a result of the seasonal shift in weather.
His collar jingles loudly when he shakes. It usually wakes Musette who then gets mad at me, telling me how rude I am. But not this time. She remains asleep.
So I get back on my computer. Oona is just signing off. But before she goes, she asks me whether she is mother or sister to me.
I tell her that she is mother.
She says that she is too young but seems flattered all the same.
I go to Chaturbate and try to get one last load out before going to bed, but I’m not feeling any of the girls there. None of my favorites are online. So I go to Motherless and cum to one of the RLC girls who is giving everything she’s got to her little pussy.
I stand up, head to the bathroom and take a shit. The tip of my erection keeps tapping against the inside of the toilet bowl. I’m reading a book on my phone called Music and Gun or something. There is a character in it named Joey Castle. He is an evolved kangaroo. This character starts formulating in my mind, taking a life of his own. I can hear him saying things about a need to revisit the interzone. But before I can make sense of it, he’s hopped out the passenger door of my consciousness, leaving the toilet flushing behind him.
I tuck my phone into the back of my boxer shorts like a pistol and fill the dog’s water bowl. The line of alarms have been set on my phone. It’s two thirty. The garbage men are making noises outside. It’s my punishment for being up later than I should. I should have closed the window by now. I should have shut my eyes.