2.06.2009

She told him not to bother the ink-full stewpot but he went ahead and fucking did it anyway. Two messes now: smudge-faced imp (he likes it, thinks it makes him look HARD, man) to clean before the gathering starts up and delicate mixture (fragile to tamper-even the cat must be sent away to prevent for danger) ruined utterly by nose dunk. Potential embarrassment ensuing: they’ll all know the ink-full pot was wrecked. Filthy scamp unrepentant despite causing no end to trouble. Like when he got drunk and pissed the laundry basket and tried to hide it. Like when he scaled the roof and bothered the ever-suffering neighborhood dogs. Like the eggs he hid in the closet. The burglar alarm he built that covered the floor with soap. He fancies himself Trickster, and he is. His messes serve no master.

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