green rubber gardening gloves, some MiracleGro plant food and next to that a white plastic pumper sprayer.
It was a tight squeeze shimmying through the thin crack of the window, but I did it, picture et all ! I shoved one edge of my photo between the window and the sill and left it hang there while I made my way inside. It snapped into a curl on the outside but stayed put.
On the other side of the window, I pulled it through and when I'd gotten the entire photo in, it rolled up and flew down to the floor, like a paper airplane crashing.
Carrying the pic across the rug felt like towing a piece of concrete pipe, being all curled up from its venture over in pussy's collar. But, I managed to roll it to a place between her bedroom and her bathroom.
Then, I took off. I'd spent enough time messing around there.
ELEVEN - Nazi Teacher
Morlson was out to get me, sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, sure as death and taxes, sure as the day turned to night, sure as...
Pussy climbed up onto my stomach. It wasn't that late, only about eight. I'd finished studying, writing on my science project assignment and contemplated my lonely saxophone that gleamed at me out of my dark closet as if to say, "Play me! Play me!"
Getting up, Delilah, snuggled down onto my pillow.
I licked the reed, dampening it for that perfect note. That perfect strain. That perfect first blast that seemed to always draw mom in. To applaud my efforts.
Blaaahhhhhhhhhh. Blaaahhhh. Blahhhh.
Pussy's ears flattened and she jumped off the bed and scratched to get out. She looked like a tiny little kitty boxer as she batted at the door, over and again for me to open it.
"Hold on, pussy."
After plopping back down into my chair, I drew in an extra deep breath and blew hard again making the next extra special note last even longer and louder...
BLLAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!
"Honey!" Mom called from her bedroom across the hall. "Honey? Sweetheart."
"Yeah, ma!" I chimed back.
"Although your sax sounds lovely tonight, darling. Really. Lovely. Um. Can you please wait to play until you get home tomorrow, a little earlier. Before homework?"
"Before homework?"
"Sure!" She yelled. "Why not!" She giggled. "Look. Honey, I'm watching TV, there's this show, is all."
"You don't mind if I play before you get home?"
"Oh. No." She giggled again. "Honey, no. It's practice, right?"
"Yeah!?"
"Practice anytime before I come home, Susie. That's perfectly fine. Hon. Really."
"K!" That was so cool of mom 'cause normally all my homework best be completed by the time I get home, or else, young lady!
Since I'd joined band, Mom was definitely starting to loosen up. I think she really liked the progress I'd been making with my sax.
TWELVE - The Sleeping Habits of the Putrid
As I peered down in bed at Ms. Cumbersonian, I could make out the cone-shape of her two flabby breasts under a worn creamy cotton, flower-covered frock- enstein —a nightgown she must’ve bought on the cheap from HideousJune.com .
I felt my gag reflex kick in. Which, actually, surprised me ‘cause I didn’t know spiders vomited but here I was feeling like I was going to hurl up a bee’s butt or something just thinking about her sloppy hellish boobs.
“ Want s-s-s-some?”
His voice startled me and I nearly webbed myself.
“ Who’s there?” I shuddered and looked around Morlson’s bedroom in the direction of the voice but couldn’t see anyone else.
“ Ov-v-v-ver here.” He cracked out the words all of them tangling between high and low in an effort to either grow up or stay a kid.
“ I can’t see you.” I squinted . At least it felt like squinting. “Where?”
“ Oh h-h-h-hold on.” More cracking. Then, movement from a dark corner at the ceiling drew my eyes toward a shiny moonlit strand bouncing as he moved toward its connector. “Here.”
And, clinging to the thread stood the most delicious boy spider I’d ever laid my eyes on, ever,
It was a tight squeeze shimmying through the thin crack of the window, but I did it, picture et all ! I shoved one edge of my photo between the window and the sill and left it hang there while I made my way inside. It snapped into a curl on the outside but stayed put.
On the other side of the window, I pulled it through and when I'd gotten the entire photo in, it rolled up and flew down to the floor, like a paper airplane crashing.
Carrying the pic across the rug felt like towing a piece of concrete pipe, being all curled up from its venture over in pussy's collar. But, I managed to roll it to a place between her bedroom and her bathroom.
Then, I took off. I'd spent enough time messing around there.
ELEVEN - Nazi Teacher
Morlson was out to get me, sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, sure as death and taxes, sure as the day turned to night, sure as...
Pussy climbed up onto my stomach. It wasn't that late, only about eight. I'd finished studying, writing on my science project assignment and contemplated my lonely saxophone that gleamed at me out of my dark closet as if to say, "Play me! Play me!"
Getting up, Delilah, snuggled down onto my pillow.
I licked the reed, dampening it for that perfect note. That perfect strain. That perfect first blast that seemed to always draw mom in. To applaud my efforts.
Blaaahhhhhhhhhh. Blaaahhhh. Blahhhh.
Pussy's ears flattened and she jumped off the bed and scratched to get out. She looked like a tiny little kitty boxer as she batted at the door, over and again for me to open it.
"Hold on, pussy."
After plopping back down into my chair, I drew in an extra deep breath and blew hard again making the next extra special note last even longer and louder...
BLLAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!
"Honey!" Mom called from her bedroom across the hall. "Honey? Sweetheart."
"Yeah, ma!" I chimed back.
"Although your sax sounds lovely tonight, darling. Really. Lovely. Um. Can you please wait to play until you get home tomorrow, a little earlier. Before homework?"
"Before homework?"
"Sure!" She yelled. "Why not!" She giggled. "Look. Honey, I'm watching TV, there's this show, is all."
"You don't mind if I play before you get home?"
"Oh. No." She giggled again. "Honey, no. It's practice, right?"
"Yeah!?"
"Practice anytime before I come home, Susie. That's perfectly fine. Hon. Really."
"K!" That was so cool of mom 'cause normally all my homework best be completed by the time I get home, or else, young lady!
Since I'd joined band, Mom was definitely starting to loosen up. I think she really liked the progress I'd been making with my sax.
TWELVE - The Sleeping Habits of the Putrid
As I peered down in bed at Ms. Cumbersonian, I could make out the cone-shape of her two flabby breasts under a worn creamy cotton, flower-covered frock- enstein —a nightgown she must’ve bought on the cheap from HideousJune.com .
I felt my gag reflex kick in. Which, actually, surprised me ‘cause I didn’t know spiders vomited but here I was feeling like I was going to hurl up a bee’s butt or something just thinking about her sloppy hellish boobs.
“ Want s-s-s-some?”
His voice startled me and I nearly webbed myself.
“ Who’s there?” I shuddered and looked around Morlson’s bedroom in the direction of the voice but couldn’t see anyone else.
“ Ov-v-v-ver here.” He cracked out the words all of them tangling between high and low in an effort to either grow up or stay a kid.
“ I can’t see you.” I squinted . At least it felt like squinting. “Where?”
“ Oh h-h-h-hold on.” More cracking. Then, movement from a dark corner at the ceiling drew my eyes toward a shiny moonlit strand bouncing as he moved toward its connector. “Here.”
And, clinging to the thread stood the most delicious boy spider I’d ever laid my eyes on, ever,
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