Chapter 11

I leaned back, letting the breeze from the windows soothe me, just rolling with whatever came my way. Rolling with the punches felt too accurate.

* * * *

I wasn’t sure if this day had gotten better or worse; better I guessed, as long as Mom had already packed her things, especially her girdle. Should I send along the kittens? We’d have to decide what to do with them. Mom still had the keys to the pet shop they’d said, so we’d have to find those too. Maybe they could come and pick up the…

“Oh holy funky-shit, that’s her house! We’d pull in the garage and climb…into…the…never mind. By the way my name is George. Hers wasn’t Mabel, was it.”

“Her name is Margaret.”