Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Clam a Trois
He lay back on the pillows, rubbed his
hand over his face. His beard was scratchy,
he throat was dry, he skin clammy. Fuck,
he felt like he was getting sick.
Clammy. Fuck. Ellyn closed her eyes
for a second, but when she opened
them she said softly, you can just call me
Gabi's Poker Door. I was all shaky and
clammy. Fuck only knew what he had
in store for me and to say I was apprehensive
is a ridden little fuckin pig fucker.... Pillsbury
doughboy lookin fat bastard dirty clammy fuck.
You make me sick as a matter of vast understatement.