Pussy and Dad
I was frying some baloney for a sandwich when my mom walked into the kitchen. It was only noon, pretty early for her to be up on a Saturday when she didn’t get off work until 2:00 a.m. and sometimes scored a few bucks afterwards. “Jesus, Puss, you’re dressing like that to see your dad? You look like shit.” I was wearing my racerback tank and some baggy boxers I had stolen from her boyfriend, Jack, ones he’d used to wipe u...