Some nights Jessathon wouldn't come home. I would stay up wondering what, or who, she was doing and why she didn't like the comfort of our home anymore. I contemplated calling Frankitha Tits, a large homely woman that always smelled of cheap gin. Old lunch lady of mine. Tiniest ankles I've ever seen.

As I was about to send "wyd" to Frankitha Jessathon burst through the door drunk and angry. In her hand was a small empty parfait container.

"Did you eat my ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ parfait?"

"Yes, I did."

Her eyes bulged, her face reddened. She was saving that parfait for Saturday night after coed ghost hunting class. What she didn't know was that the parfait was only good through Thursday. I would have told her had she been home.

Just as I thought she was to kill me she ripped her clothes off, unhinged her spread, and made savage love to both of my feet even as they were some distance apart from each other, her face a quiet, unblinking, unchanging rage.

The last time I ever saw that spread again.

Germ wandered aimlessly down the the hallway of his mansion. The place felt so empty to him now that his wife left him. He understood though. The mansion was enormous but still couldn't contain his ex-wife Barbie. Every wall felt like prison bars to Barbie.

As Germ passed the bedroom he use to share with Barbie he was careful not to look in. Still to painful. Germ has been sleeping on a couch downstairs in the masturbation chamber. The maids and the butlers don't go in that room, it was his only completely private space in the whole mansion.

"Oh no, I ran out of wipes yesterday." he thought. "I'll have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. He stopped walking and turned towards the doorway of his bedroom, now some 10 feet away. "I think I have more wipes in there." He thought, but ultimately decided not to check.

Germ's thoughts has been dominated by the memories of his ex-wife. He would joyfully recall their wedding night when teams of his friends and family would rail her into oblivion as he watched in fetal position in the corner of the room. Then he would break down into tears as he noticed how quiet the mansion is now. No more shrill screams or ecstasy coming from any of many rooms she would bang their friends and neighbors in.

There are a lot thing Germ misses about Barbie, but most of all it has to be her spectacular spredd.

Prinder opened his pocket book. 7:30. Serlvin's late. Prinder looked down the road in both directions from the street corner he's standing in. A light rain was coming down and steam was coming from the street drainage system. In a few minutes it would be time whether Serlvin was with Prinder or not.

A couple passed Prinder. He noticed the woman had a Chicago accent she was faking, but the man didn't seem to mind or notice. She was telling the man about a rash she had on her benis and how treating it was costly, she was going to sell her house. Prinder thought about his own benis, and wondered if his rash was ever going to clear up.

As Prinder was about to give up on Serlvin a bird ♥♥♥♥ on him, making a loud plop sound as it fell on his shoulder, splashing the milky substance into his right eye. Prinder touched his middle finger to the ♥♥♥♥ so he could inspect it. He put the finger in his mouth and thought "Damn, this tastes good."

Finally at 7:54 Serlvin pulled up in a taxi and yelled to Prinder. "Get the ♥♥♥♥ in the car you ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥! It's almost Spredding hour!", Serlvin drunkenly slurred. As Prinder got in the taxi he wiped the rest of the now rainfall diluted bird ♥♥♥♥ onto Serlvin's mouth and open mouth kissed him. As Prinder noted how Serlvin tasted like cheap cigarillos and brandy he thought to himself, "I'm ready to spredd."

Pander slid from the doorway to the rail at the top of the stairs, holstering his gun and suppressing a wry smile. He couldn't wait to see the look on Spry's face when it hits him. The money, the girl, Paris, Dander's health scare, all lies, all culminating to this moment when Spry will unwittingly give his fortune away with a single phone call. Pander patted the gun in it's holster. He'd be ready just in case Spry tried to pull one over on him, but he was sure Spry had no idea. How could he? Daisy was a hell of a distraction and she stayed on Spry like a spread on toast. Just as Pander was letting his thoughts drift to the night he met Daisy at the adult theater on Gleeson Spry walked into the room, spread in full display.