Cake at Zero to Sixty

Irv here.

Kwan left this morning before sunrise. Uncle Vick had baked her an anniversary cake the day before. I guess the first anniversary since they began fucking, since neither one of them loves the other. Uncle Vick just likes sweets so he probably baked it for himself.

I came down the stairs in my nightshirt when I heard Uncle Vick shout: "I'll just go online and find a new whore to diddle!" Classy, huh? Kwan shouted back, "Go ahead, and while you're at it go on Ebay and find a couple of midget stilts to hold your fat lard belly up when someone gets on their knees for you. It's like sucking off the collapsing Hindenburg!"

That's when I saw the anniversary cake shoot across the living room. Remarkably the blue-iced cake remained intact even after impact on the red and yellow stained glass panes of the front door.

Kwan is gone. Uncle Vick smoked four cigarettes, ate the cake, and went back to bed.

I've got to get a job and get out of here before the Labor Day Party. I'm running out of time!