Blues Clues; The Most Scandalous Days of our Lives

(To make things less weird, pretent everyone is a human)

I wake up as usual. To the sound of my wonderfully joyous alarm clock. Always waking me up to the scents of another absolutley gorgeous day. It rings for maybe 30 seconds before I stir, but often I like to tease it instead. I'll sometimes pretend sleeping for much longer, to watch it work those arms.

I woke up with a headache. I'm not sure if this is from a few too many Long Island Ice Teas, or the sex. I remeber last night, watching the fabolous bartender mix the gin, coke and other ingridients together into a little bundle of 21 dollars. I can't recall how many I've had, maybe three, or maybe even five. All I remember is...

"STEVE WAKE UP!", yells the puffing clock. It looks slightly pissed. It gave me the same look that it gave me when I said we'd have to break it off. I ignore his wailing and remember all the fun times we had together. On the beach, me chasing the seagulls, and him tossing bread to bring more gulls our way. Or at my dear mum's nursing home, when he accdentally dropped my purse, so I bent over in front of him to pick it off the scruffy floor. Oh those times were great. If only, if, no, it wasnt meant to be.

"I'm up, you silly goose!", and then I tickled him until his buzzer squaked a low tone.

"Tee-hee-hee!", he laughed. I loved his laugh, it brough back even more memories.

I walked to the kitchen, trying to remember the way around this apartment. I can't even tell that it is my house. I open up the freezer to find what we can make when Periwinkle, the landlord comes over. He used to be my neighbor, until he bought my house and built an drab apartment building on top of my cute yellow house, with purple shutters and that chic red roof. I almost had a tear come out when I heard the knocking on my door, and the cursing coming out of that worn and dirty mouth.

"Open the fucking door, skank. Just because you give good massauges doesnt mean you can dick your way out of rent!", I hadn't heard such foul language since I had seen the movie "Slapshot". It did not impress me.

"Hold on, sweetie.", I heard him grumble something. He still had a part of me in his heart.

It started just as a little boiler problem, but then I brought him into the equasion. I had one of my most steamy breakups with him. I wont get into the details.

I opened the door, he was all sweaty and had some shaving cream on his face. I didnt question him about it.

"You are a little over-due on your rent. I think you need to come up to my place.", he was desperate for me. That most certanly wasnt shaving cream, that was his own cream of man. He wanted a partner! Not the rent that I had already dropped off.

"No way, you magic-filled silly!", the only position you like starts with a 'm' and ends with 'issionary'.

"So?"

"Yeah your right, but..I already paid the rent, so that means no sex until next month."

"Fuck you, I could kick you out of this flat if I wanted to!"

"But you won't." I'm his weakness.

"Fuck you."

He left, I heard his hard steps down to his apartment. I used to spend long, magical summer nights in that room. It was always cluttered with paper. Then I noticed what some of the papers were.

End of 1.

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