last night as i sat huddled above “the little friend” one hand tangled in my hair and another reaching out for the warmth radiating from the space heater hidden under the bar, craig approached the bar.
“hey princess, how’s it going?”
and i couldn’t even say anything, just blinked back tears and got him an mgd.
i’d never been called princess before in my entire life. i had been called little miss can’t be wrong quite a few times, but that doesn’t count.
really, all i wanted to do is kiss him right on his balding, mullety, mustached face.
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Ok, sorry, but I just don’t get it. What’s “the little friend” you were huddling over?
it’s the new book by donna tartt.
Jodi, replace “it’s the new book by donna tartt” with “the ogran grinder’s monkey I bought on ebay”. Anything that mentions an organ grinder monkey is twice as funny.