I woke up this morning in my easy-chair all alone. The trailer was so dark and quiet I feared grandma had left me for the giant pocket mouse I had dreams about. I must have drooled all night because my right arm was really stinky and sweaty. Luckily, after rooting through the house in tears for an hour or so, I found a note next to some cold porridge telling me she had only gone to a senior function called: Swinging Senior Fiesta Bell Grande. That's where everybody dresses up like the Mexicans and eats cockroaches in the back room.

So I stayed in my chair all day listening to the clock and sometimes the birds or the neighbors. I thought I kept hearing grandma come back into the trailer but it was just the stupid faggot cat that yells all night next door. He's orange and likes to fart up the trailer. I guess grandma must have locked the cat inside with me because when I tried to smoke my pipe the living room vanished. And in its place were a bunch of mad firemen with hoses and a truck.

Grandma was there too, cleaning the soot off my face and asking me was I okay? It was annoying.