Soap opera! Sister says of death. Her own.
Kurt the moustache of W.W.2 is back into my mouth’s slurping.
If my cateheter hurts less this time, I offer one kilo of swets to the fakir God. Says woman waiting to go upstairs.
Doctor says no space upstairs for the present. Soap opera !
I had put Kurt mustache to nap. I wanted for it a cat nap but as it turned out it was a ferocious jungle cat sleep. The jungle cat twirled its mustache threateningly.
Yesterday’s cat was in a cradle. Today it has grown to a big cat.
I now have a dozen of Kurt’s twirls. Right now, that is before the feral sleep,I am wading in Slapstick or Lonesome no more.
The idiot zygotic twin-egg pair ,who should have died long ago turn intelligent and polite. They have read all the books.
That is the mishap for which Dr.Mott is accountable .
But the cat is soon back on its soft foot.
Don’t you worry -the supernumerary nipple shall be hid from prying eyes.