Every Saturday the leech comes over, Wally's ex. It use to be Thursday but now Saturday. He's Wally's ex-lover but not dead lover, and I am patiently waiting for him to die. Well I'm not patient, I gave him a stick of butter for his popcorn tonight and added the cheese he wanted in with it. Gladly too and while I was preparing it, offered him another drink to go with his cigarettes he can smoke on the patio. I did buy him cartons of the coffin nails but it got expensive, he does smoke a lot. And that's why you would think he should be suffering from something? He can't climb hills, he can't walk to far yet he still lives. He is still able to whine that he doesn't have enough money, does anyone think they have enough? Yet he thinks his requests are different. The car won't start, I can't pay the property tax and on and on. He does nothing but smoke, stiff creditors and find reasons why he can't pay back a cent he has borrowed from Wally my husband.
I only look forward to Saturdays to see if he will show up, or that perhaps he burnt up in bed and couldn't make it. Yet he still lives to come here on Saturday. I always have beef. Never fish but beef, butter, sugar, booze and ashtrays. The stink of his is awful. Almost as awful as the breath he seems still able to draw.
It rained tonight and the roads are tricky. Perhaps, just perhaps he might not make it through the gang territory and fall prey to their lethal games. I'll have to wait until next Saturday though to see if he still lives.
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